Warrior of Angels
by Austennerdita2533
Summary: Amassed with guilt and grief after Liz's death, Caroline teeters on the edge of humanity as she attempts to find a way to handle the excruciating pain of loss. Will she turn it off, or won't she? How will she handle the new supernatural threat posed by Kai and Freya? Torn between light and dark, Caroline finds wisdom and guidance from an unexpected source.
1. Don't You Follow Me Into The Dark

**Author's Note: **

**This is my first official writer's foray into the lovely world of TVD fanfiction. Yay! **

**I love Caroline Forbes and her perky strength, but after Liz died, I wondered how those attributes could be tested and/or developed...and by whom. Though I'd originally intended for this to be a one-shot, my imagination ran away with me and now there's a multi-chapter fic in the works. Comments/reviews/suggestions are welcomed and appreciated.**

**Read away! **

* * *

_Death is a part of life_, they say, but it didn't take Caroline long to discover that with the life of a vampire, there came a greater incidence of death. Particularly among those she loved—you know, as if heightened emotions and bloodlust weren't bad enough. _Seriously_.

How many lives, how many painful goodbyes, had her and her friends been required to make these past four years? She shuddered as she ran through the mental list of names, her dad and Bonnie among them. Many. Too many. But despite death's frequency in her life, it somehow never got any easier to accept. In a way, it was harder. The ability to bid farewell became more and more impossible each time.

And today was no exception.

It was the morning of Liz's funeral. Caroline dressed with an unnecessary meticulousness, wasting extra time fluffing, tucking, and flipping her already perfect curls and smoothing the slight creases that had formed along the knuckles of her black silk gloves—gloves she purchased because they were something Kate Middleton would wear. Classic. Elegant. Chic.

When Caroline first bought them six months ago, Liz told her she'd never find an appropriate occasion to wear them, at least not in Mystic Falls. "Are you planning a trip to visit members of the aristocracy?" Liz joked, plopping the gloves back into their open box on Caroline's bed, "Save them for something special."

"Elegance can be useful anywhere, Mom," Caroline replied, "Even in Mystic Falls. I'll find a use for them. Don't worry."

As she turned to leave the room, Liz smiled and placed a kiss on top of her daughter's head. "I'm sure you will, honey. I'm sure you will."

And as always, Caroline stayed true to her word. She'd found a use for them, all right, just not the joyous one she'd hoped for when she clicked _buy_. Those silk black gloves, a carefully selected fashion accessory meant to off-set the sleekness of her funeral dress, extended just past her wrists and provided her with the appearance of grace she craved—no—needed, to disguise the acute trembling of her hands. To stay strong.

An elegant tribute of honor, respect, and love, those gloves would be worn with the self-control and pride befitting of a princess. For her mom. For Elizabeth Forbes.

Pulling them tight against her fingers, Caroline knew: today was their first; today was their last. Like her beautiful dress, like her new, strapless pumps, she'd never wear them again. She never did.

* * *

Caroline didn't remember the funeral. In her mind, it all became a blurry mass of faces, words, hands, and tears that she couldn't differentiate if she'd tried. All she could remember was the largeness of the crowd, the fresh smell of daisies and roses, and the silent poise she'd erected out of necessity, not desire. Crying was permitted, ugly sobbing was not.

Her friends' eyes lingered on her back everywhere she moved. She could feel them peering at her like a china doll teetering on the ledge of a shelf, moments away from toppling, thudding to the floor in shards of shattered Caroline. Dust-pans armed and ready, they waited.

She was grateful for them, though. Truly. She knew they were there beside her throughout the entire service, surrounding her in a protective ring of support and concern, even if she couldn't remember much of what they offered in terms of condolences or mutual grief. Stefan and Enzo acted as her physical anchors, keeping her upright; Elena, with a basket of blueberry muffins, ignited memories of sweet, simpler days of human past; Matt, Jeremy, Tyler and Alaric faded into the background and stood tall as prevailing pillars of persistence; and even Damon acted with reverence, abandoning his usual sarcastic irony.

Caroline appreciated all of them, every single one—Damon, the self-destructive asshat, included (which said a lot)—she really did. With parental love snatched away by death, not once, but twice now, it was nice to be reminded that love still existed elsewhere, in different ways and among different people. Sorrowful times like this always had a strange way of exposing the people who truly cared. And for Caroline, that was a small comfort. A dim light that flickered amid the bleakness of her despair.

Despite her friends' caring attentiveness, Caroline couldn't wait to escape. She just wanted a few moments alone, some privacy to extinguish all of those blazing flames building in her chest, the kind that turned her breath to fire. So later, when Elena proposed they grab a drink at the Grill, "a last toast to the Sheriff," as Matt called it, Caroline said she'd meet them there.

"I want to drop these off at home first," she said to Elena with a gesture toward her car, "I don't want them to wilt. Go ahead without me, I'll be right behind you."

Elena nodded, hugged her friend once more, and then left her to her own devices. That was the one good thing about Elena: she never hovered.

Distracted by loading flowers into her backseat, Caroline didn't realize someone was leaning nonchalantly against the car door until she felt a playful slap on her behind. "I call shotgun, Gorgeous."

At this, Caroline rolled her eyes. Whirling around to face him at vamp speed, she swatted Enzo's hand away and lodged it behind his back, allowing the veins beneath her eyes to pulsate. The warning was clear: Don't mess with me.

_Calm down_. _Don't lose control, _she told herself._ Not here_.

In a flash, her face assumed its regular post-Liz appearance: composed yet dull.

As she shoved him towards a cackling Damon, she said, "First off, Enzo…hands off. Second, there's definitely not enough oxygen in this car for you _and _the flowers."

"Air me out, then, Blondie. I don't mind being tied down…" He winked and gestured to the sun roof.

"Good. Then you'll have no problem tying _yourself_ down to a booth at the Grill."

"But—"

Enzo frowned and took a decisive step forward, only to find his progress blocked by Stefan, who had suddenly materialized between them. "Let her go," he said, a threat lurking in his tone, "She said she'll meet us there."

An unspoken moment of understanding passed between her and Stefan at that moment—he protected her choice to be alone. Finally, _someone _who understood! Before climbing into the driver's seat, she smiled at him in gratitude.

"Oh, and Enzo," Caroline said, rolling down the window, "Be a doll and order me a vodka cranberry. You buy, I'll drink."

"It's a date," he winked, "Now get your ass moving. I am not a patient man."

With one last exasperated shake of her head, Caroline sped away, her friends fading into indistinct shadows on the sidewalk. She was alone. Finally.

* * *

After unloading the car, Caroline grabbed a wine glass (determined to class-it-up) and a blue cooler from the back of the refrigerator, placing them next to her on the porch swing. As she rocked back-and-forth in mindless meditation, she savored the taste of B+ blood on her tongue in the hopes that it would act as an anesthetic. (Because, damn, did she need one.) At the very least, she hoped it would quench the undying thirst in her heart for her mother. Every sip brought her closer to the brink of oblivion…and for the first time in her life as a vampire, she welcomed it.

Her mom was dead. Gone. There was no way to save her. And that was something her Miss-Fix-It mind found difficult to digest.

Caroline didn't know which was worse: a human life ended too soon because of an unlucky circumstance or a supernatural inadequacy that made her helpless in saving the people she loved. _What's the point of my existence?_ she asked herself. _I mean, what good is mystical healing if my blood turned the mother I loved into a super-cancer mutant, and then killed her…faster? _

Caroline couldn't make sense of it. How could she—a vampire—such a strong and powerful being, be so absolutely powerless? So utterly helpless to spare good people from excess suffering?

_What is the point?_ she wondered again. _What is the fucking _point_ of this life?_

Guzzling down a blood bag to the last drop, Caroline allowed rage, disbelief, and melancholy to overpower her, briefly losing control. Alone, there was no one there to stop her.

Let the sticky sweetness dribble down her lips and across her pristine, porcelain chin…Let it engorge her pulsating veins and flush away that pestering sadness…Let it never, never stop flowing…

Defiant. Numb. Desensitized. She didn't care. No, no. She didn't care about anything right now. A wall of distance extended between her emotions and her cherished memories, lifting the lid of suffocation so she could breathe. Really breathe. And, oh, how wonderful it felt!

She remembered the time she scoffed at Klaus for suggesting that there was an _allure to darkness_. Ha! If he only could see her now—obscuring her sorrow with the metallic taste of blood. He was right. That pretentious, Big-Bad-Hybrid-psychopath was right! (And that, Caroline hated to admit—even to herself.)

Had she not been isolated, had she been with her friends at the Grill, she might've latched her fangs, unapologetically, into the neck of some poor, unsuspecting Mystic Falls human just to revel in the taste of fresh blood as it trickled down her tonsils. Anything to preserve that peaceful blackness a few seconds longer. It meant freedom. And once Caroline surrendered to it, really surrendered, she felt that pervasive, persistent tug yanking her towards the middle of that spiraling black hole. If she let it, freedom would swallow her whole and extinguish that neurotic need for control.

_Yes, Klaus_, she said in her head, _That _is_ alluring_.

She'd toast to that. So after raising her glass in touché salute to the man she once thought so wrong, she drained the rest of its contents.

* * *

Eight-and-a-half blood bags later, and Caroline was drunk off her avoided misery. That's why, when the porch steps emitted a loud creak from unexpected footsteps, she tumbled from her horizontal position on the swing to the floor with a loud _plop_. In other words, she was surprised off her ass. Literally.

Caroline fumbled to tidy herself. While she wiped at her blood-stained face with a Kleenex she extracted from her purse, the visitors spoke:

"Hasn't anyone ever told you it's dangerous to drink alone, love?"

Caroline froze when she heard his voice—that all-too-familiar British accent—and her wine glass slipped from her fingers as she turned to face him.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Rebekah said as she flashed to retrieve the glass before it smashed on the deck, "Perky little Caroline Forbes doesn't brood—and she certainly doesn't throw herself a blood binge-a-thon without inviting guests. I know I'm not exactly on the guest list but…would you be so kind?"

At this, Rebekah popped off the lid of the cooler and removed a blood bag, sucking out its contents as if it were a juicy pouch, "I'm famished. It was a rather long and complicated trip." She rolled her eyes, gesturing at Klaus. "Insufferable brother and all."

_Complicated? Ha! No shit!_

As if the sudden appearance of Klaus and Rebekah Mikaelson on her front porch wouldn't have been startling enough—he was supposed to be re-conquering his New Orleans kingdom, for crying out loud—the scene before Caroline made her mind want to erupt into an aneurysm. She gawked at Klaus, unable to process what she saw.

"What—I just don't…" she stammered, "What the hell is going on?"

Pacing back and forth, she rubbed at her eyes like she was scratching away a strange dream. Agitated, she then clamped her hands to either side of her head and fisted her blonde curls. "Oh my God. Oh my God!" she yelled. "I'm freaking hallucinating! I've gone and gotten myself blood drunk and now I've lost my mind. Okay…" she breathed, "okay."

Her exhales becoming frantic, she massaged her aching temples. "You're a hallucination." Caroline gesticulated at him like a witch casting a spell. "You're a hallucination. Wait…" she looked up, eyes squinted, "Aren't you?"

When Caroline fixed Klaus with a look of intense scrutiny, he chuckled.

"Though I wouldn't mind being the object of one of your fantasies" he said with a smirk, "I'm sorry to say that I am not a hallucination."

"I'd mind," Rebekah quipped. "I'd care not to be included in such imaginings, thank you very much." Making a seat of the porch railing, Rebekah leaned her back against a white beam and yawned. "No offense or anything."

Okay, yes. Technically, Klaus stood in front of Caroline…or so it appeared. At any rate, he looked like the Klaus she knew: blond curls, dimples, a blue Henley underneath a leather jacket. And that grin! That teasing, flirtatious smirk! How it unnerved and infuriated her when he looked at her like that! _The smug bastard_. It was him, and yet…it wasn't him?

"If you're not a hallucination, then what are you?" Caroline asked, "A ghost? Because you're…you're—_transparent_!"

She could feel herself unraveling again…the mystery of Klaus and Rebekah's appearance had temporarily restored her control freak focus; but at the moment, it began to waver. In an effort to calm herself, she closed her eyes and counted to three. _One. Two. Three._ Then, her eyes popping open with hysteria, she said, "I mean, look! I can shove my hand right through you!"

Marching over to where he stood a few paces away, Caroline thrust her hand where his stomach should be and watched as it passed, unencumbered, through the air. After a few seconds, however, her arm, which was still half-plunged through his middle, began to emit strange sensations—almost like being tickled, but not quite—so she jerked it away, retreating away from him in perplexity. Though the feeling, if she could call it that, wasn't unpleasant, it wasn't exactly perceptible either. It was an almost-touch, a just-about shiver, a nearly-there caress. It was all too reminiscent of his maybe-appearance.

In other words: it was bizarre as hell. And Caroline, well, she'd already had her fair share of weird this year, thank you very much.

"Almost tickles, doesn't it?" Klaus said as he moved to the right of the swing. Resting his hands on the window sill, he peered at Caroline with a look of patient humor. He looked to be in no rush.

"Are you dead?"

"We're Originals," Rebekah scoffed, "We can't be killed."

"So glad we cleared that up," Caroline said, un-amused, "Enough with the phantom, spook-me theatrics, Klaus. I want answers."

"Have somewhere to be, do you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, I do."

Rebekah interrupted—"You might want to clean up a bit before you go." Her heels clicked as she strode across the deck and stooped to pick up a few empty blood bags discarded on the floor. She grunted in revulsion. "This place looks like it was the spot of an all-night rager."

For the first time since their arrival, Caroline looked around. Rebekah was right—the place was disgusting. Muddy footprints lined the white deck; her black blazer, rolled into a ball, lay discarded on the Welcome mat by the front door; trampled flower petals and smeared blood surrounded the porch swing; and empty blood bags, potato chips, and chardonnay bottles coated the railing. How long had she been here? And when in the hell did she make this mess? This was the trouble with blood drunk euphoria, Caroline realized—it erased time.

Still, leave it to Rebekah to find a reason to be snooty.

"I wasn't exactly expecting company," she said as she flashed to retrieve her jacket. With a huff, she shrugged her arms into it and buttoned it against the morning chill. "So, either explain your presence here or leave. I'm in no mood for games."

As if to emphasize her point, Caroline crossed her arms and glared.

Picking up a few more articles of trash—holding them far away from her—Rebekah started down the steps and onto the brick sidewalk. "I'll go and dispose of this while you two…chat."

As she did this, Klaus sauntered over to the front door. "Shall we continue this inside, Caroline?" he suggested. "The house is cloaked in a privacy spell. We won't be overheard."

Without waiting for an answer, he disappeared through the door, which was closed. "Don't forget that item we discussed, little sister," his voice added from inside.

With a nod, Rebekah vanished.

* * *

After slamming the door shut, Caroline stomped into the living room to find Klaus whistling some ancient classical tune. Sprawled comfortably on the sofa, he snuggled a blue couch pillow against his chest and waited.

"So, how many witches did you have to slaughter to acquire the ability to walk through walls?"

"Doors, actually."

Caroline rolled her eyes.

Sitting up, he rested his elbows against his knees. "That's the funny thing about projection spells, Caroline. They don't work properly when the witch who casts them is dead." He smiled. "Projecting someone's consciousness, spirit, whatever you wish to call it…well, that's rather tricky. It's very advanced, complex magic," he continued, "the kind that may require—how should I put this—the right _kind_ of motivation."

She shuddered.

"And since we both know I possess excellent powers of persuasion…_voilá._"

At this, Klaus bowed his head as if to enunciate his Biggest Badass Alive prowess. And honestly, she didn't need to be reminded of it. He was the Original Hybrid: the most powerful, not to mention the most feared, supernatural being in existence. Diabolical, manipulative, and brutal, there was no calculable limit to the atrocities he had committed in his 1,000-year tenure on this planet. Over the centuries, he had molded himself into the monster incarnate of the worst nightmares—and yet, Caroline wasn't afraid of him. She never had been; and she probably never would be.

Despite what anyone else thought, Caroline knew that underneath Klaus' ferocious, monstrous exterior there resided a man. And that man, though he hid behind walls of control and cunning, bestowed great kindness, caressed with skin-shivering tenderness, and at times, acted with the kind of selflessness that didn't hope for, let alone expect, reciprocation. All this he did. All this he was.

And Caroline, the eternal champion of goodness, could never remain insensible to the potential that hummed in his veins. Though Klaus shrouded it in fear—of rejection, of vulnerability—love lived there, deep inside of him. And to her, that made the monster in the man salvageable.

But would she ever admit that out loud? _Hell _no.

Though Klaus' little speech explained a few things, it still left quite a number of unanswered questions. Not only that, but Caroline still wasn't convinced that she hadn't lost her mind. After all, it wouldn't have been the first time she saw Klaus when he wasn't actually there. _Thanks, Silas_.

"So what you're saying," she said aloud, "is that you're not a figment of my imagination?"

"I am not."

"Right." Caroline took a seat in the rocking chair across from him. "So, let's not waste any more time. I have friends waiting." She signaled to him to begin, "Why is projected-you here?"

"I think you know."

"Elena? Again?" Disgusted, she shook her head. "What could you _possibly _want with her now?"

"Ah, the doppelgängers." Climbing to his feet, Klaus strode around the coffee table and began to pace, his hands behind his back. "I believe I surrendered any lingering interest in them the last time we met. Or do you not remember?" As he said this, a mischievous grin tugged at his lips.

_Did she remember? Ha!_

Suddenly, images of ripped clothing, fallen leaves, and tangled limbs flooded Caroline's memory. She remembered rough yet tender fingers, fangs that nipped along her neck and collar bone, and piercing yellow hybrid eyes looking, lusting, longing for that passionate moment of connection, every second uncovering new ways to send shivers shooting down and across her skin. She remembered how good it felt to surrender control to him, how her body responded to his touch with an unconscious ease. Together, they became almost transcendent. Impervious to time, to life, to the supernatural woes affecting her and her friends. But like all beautiful things, that moment ended, too. And all that remained was the harshness of reality.

Today's reality? Elizabeth Forbes was gone. Her mom was dead, never to return.

"Enough!" Caroline snapped. Bolting to her feet, she flashed to the stereo behind the couch and grabbed the remote, pointing it in warning. "You have exactly two seconds to tell me why you're here, or I'll drown out your projected-ghost voice with Taylor Swift."

Klaus' face became grave. The games were over.

"I'm sorry, Caroline."

"Don't be sorry, just—"

"No, listen to me," Klaus said as he flashed to a spot across from her. Placing his hands on either shoulder, he forced her to look at him. His gaze, intense and penetrating, demanded that she pay close attention. "I'm _sorry_, Caroline."

Caroline's legs began to tremble. Combine that with the tingling of her shoulders where his hands rested, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could remain standing. Tears—she could feel them, too. They pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill over and out…to drown her face in a hurricane of repressed grief. Her mommy was gone! Her mommy was really gone!

"No!" Caroline yelled, swatting his arms away, "I won't do this with you. I won't do this anyone!"

Rivets of hysteria traveled down and across her body. The loss, the loneliness, the absolute torrent of pain—she could feel the emotions threatening to consume every last one of her neurons, sinking her into an infinite pit of blackness. She needed it to stop! She needed _him _to stop!

Pointing at Klaus in accusation, she bit her bottom lip until she drew blood.

"I won't do this," she spat, "Do you hear me, Klaus? I won't! So, please..." she pleaded as tears clouded her vision, "just stop!"

With a sigh, Klaus took a purposeful step forward and held her by the wrist. "You _will _do this with me, love. And you'll do this with me now."

Caroline struggled to free herself, flipping and flailing in all directions.

"You can't make me do anything! Don't you get that?"

At this, almost like a response to a challenge, he snarled and squeezed his fingers tighter around her wrist. His grip felt implacable, like he couldn't let go. Like he never would.

"You're just some creepy projection, hallucination…whatever…that appeared on my front porch without an invitation," she started. "You come here, all bravado and brutality, and demand that I mourn the mother that I not only loved, but just lost?" She laughed here, but with scorn, not amusement. "Worse, you essentially command that I allow that devastating agony to swallow me and bury me in the darkness of despair? _You_! You of all people have absolutely _no_ right to tell me what or when I need to feel, okay?"

"I have every right! I know—"

"—No! You don't!"Caroline interrupted. "You have no idea what it's like to have someone you love...truly love...ripped away from you. You can't! Especially not when you've spent the majority of your supernatural existence in the no-humanity zone pretending you don't need someone, that you don't need anyone. Because you do, goddammit! We _all_ do!"

She paused to wipe away angry tears.

"As for the person I need most in this world?" she half-laughed, half-cried, "She's dead. And that's all I can feel right now. Nothing else."

"Caroline—" Klaus began, taking a step toward her.

"I said shut up!" she shouted, her nostrils flaring, "I am not some timid Little Red Riding Hood who quivers at the sound of your wolfish huffing and puffing, Klaus." At this, Caroline plunged her fists hard into Klaus' chest, hurling him far away from her. "I am _strong_!"

The force of her shove sent the Original flying, feet-over-head, into the patchwork quilt hanging on the adjacent wall. Even though she remained unsure about whether or not she could physically hurt him in his projected state, she still reveled at the sight of Klaus sprawled in weird angles on the floor. Anger and rage felt glorious! She let them lick across her like expanding flames.

_Consume me, consume me_, she encouraged. _And fuck the consequences!_

Instead of responding with the ferocity Caroline had anticipated—and wanted—Klaus laughed. Loudly.

Fuming, Caroline marched over to his prone form. Without warning, she lifted her foot and kicked him in the stomach, her black heel puncturing a hole in his blue shirt. "What, may I ask, is so funny?" she asked through gritted teeth, "Does this not hurt you? Are you pain resistant now, too?"

"Umph," he responded as the heel met a rib. "Oh, it hurts. It definitely hurts. I suspect I'll have scars for a few hours after we finish this conversation," he grunted, rolling onto his elbow. "But that was…you were marvelous! So fierce. So powerful. So absolutely radiant."

"Excuse me…?" Caroline retracted her foot slowly, making sure to snag muscle tissue, making him scream. "Are you seriously _complimenting _me right now?"

Incredulous, she threw her hands on her hips and glared down at him. "Can't you tell that I'm about two seconds away from ripping your dead heart from your phantom chest?"

Regaining his feet with a grunt, Klaus chuckled. "If that's what the rage inside you dictates, then do it. Here, I'll make it easier for you…" Taking a step toward her, he grabbed Caroline's hand. "My heart…" he gasped as he thrust her hand into his chest, "It's all yours, sweetheart. Have at it."

Caroline squeezed it, causing Klaus to yelp in pain. "Feel good, you arrogant piece of shit?"

"Excellent," he coughed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

She squeezed again. Harder.

He screamed. Louder this time. Despite his obvious pain, however, his eyes still glinted with a secret delight that Caroline couldn't quite understand.

Confused and furious, she stared at him. She gawked at the hand plunged in the middle of his chest, at the fingers gripping that bloody, beating muscle.

There it was—heart of Klaus Mikaelson, Original Hybrid—resting in her shuddering palm. Inside his chest cavity. There it resided: open and vulnerable. Entirely at her mercy. One good, forceful squeeze would finish it. It would deflate like a sputtering balloon, collapsing into nothing but dormant, calloused tissue.

The repressed wrath inside of her pleaded for her to do it. Begged for her to submit. To crumple not only his heart, but him, into the hollow ashes of nothingness. But Caroline couldn't do it; she faltered at the last minute.

Oh, the stories his heart could tell! Pumping a history full of intrigue and complexity through his veins, that heart lived a thousand years of blood, bruises, and brokenness; but somehow, despite it all, managed to endure. Resilience enabled it to survive.

_How is that possible?_ she wondered. _How is that fucking possible_? Especially now, at this particular moment, when she possessed the power to destroy it?

The fate of Klaus' heart rested in Caroline's tingling fingertips. Literally.

"Are you some kind of sick masochist?" she spat.

"Maybe," Klaus choked, fighting for air, "But feeling those layers of pain—the fear, the fury, the hatred—they provide me with the determination to fight back. To win. Like you, Caroline," he said through clenched teeth, "I am strong."

As he said these words, Caroline's grip around Klaus' heart slackened. The concentration creases on her forehead relaxed.

"If your soul needs a little darkness, love," he continued, his voice soft yet insistent, "Embrace it; don't become it." Here, he cupped her face with his right hand, caressing her cheek as he spoke. "The power you seek manifests itself in controlling the outcome, not surrendering to it. And you—you are not weak."

Caroline's eyes softened. She sighed. She understood why he was here now.

Removing her hand from his chest, she wrapped it around his neck in the hopes that Klaus would ease her trembling body into steadiness. Oddly enough, he did. More than that, though, he anchored her back to humanity with an erect grace that reminded her of a waltz; for though she may spin in rigid circles, she could control now how far and how long she wanted to bend into the darkness. She could dance around the black hole, but never disappear into it. And that…that meant true freedom.

After releasing one long, sad, exhausted breath, she flicked her eyes to his. She examined him long and hard, trying to make sense of something. Although she remained quiet for some time, when she finally spoke, it was without uncertainty.

"We are the same," she said at last.

Cracking a relieved smile, Klaus leaned his forehead against hers. "Yes, Caroline, we are the same," he repeated, placing a chaste kiss on her head, "Remember that, accept it. Allow yourself to be who and what you truly are."

"And what's that?"

"A warrior."

A small smile crept across her face and her head tickled in the exact place his phantom lips rested. "Just so you know," Caroline said behind closed eyes, "I really hate you right now."

"I know, love. But there's flexibility in that emotion, too," Klaus replied, his accented voice becoming distant. "However long it takes, remember?"

* * *

When the doorbell rang a second later, Caroline didn't need to open her eyes to know that Klaus, projected or not, was gone. The air, once polluted with a bold, magical, almost-tickles haze, had returned to its ordinary oxygenated state. Everything felt…well, normal. Sad considering the circumstances of the day, but normal.

The doorbell rang again.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Flashing to the front door, Caroline found Matt and Elena there holding two casserole dishes wrapped in aluminum foil. (Obviously her friends had orchestrated check-up reinforcement times.) Luckily, Rebekah had tidied the blood drunk clutter around the front porch swing or they'd have more cause for concern.

_Never thought I'd be grateful for Rebekah_, Caroline thought.

"Mrs. Sanders made us promise to drop these off as soon as possible," Elena said, rolling her eyes, "You know how she gets."

"Instructions for hours," Matt added, "It's easier just to thank her for the food and split."

"If only she knew I was a vampire..."

Matt stepped into the foyer. "That'd be entertaining."

"She'd probably detail the pros and cons of a blood bag diet," Elena laughed, "Then write hourly instructions for the most effective way to keep you fed and satisfied."

The three of them passed into the kitchen. Comfort food from kind neighbors and old friends littered the countertops. Mystic Falls residents had dropped off dishes for days—meatloaf, fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, even cheesecake—anything they could think of that seemed potentially consoling. To eat half of it, Caroline would need the appetite of a sumo wrestler. Still, it was a testament to how much she and Liz were beloved in this community. And that, in the midst of a tragedy, was nice to know.

"She means well."

"If anything," Matt quipped, "she'll keep you well fed."

Her friends cleared a space for the food by the sink. "Want me to help you put some of this away?" Elena asked.

"No, just leave it."

"You sure?"

"I'll get it later." As she said this, she crossed to the island to retrieve her purse. It hung by its strap on the back of a counter stool.

_Funny._ _I don't remember putting it there_. Caroline thought for a minute. _Must've been Rebekah._

Opening it to retrieve her house keys, her hand clunked against a rectangular-shaped box and an envelope—two things that definitely weren't there this morning. _Strange. _

Closing her bag, she flung the strap over her left shoulder and turned toward her friends with a melancholy smile.

"Really, what I want more than anything right now," Caroline said as she plucked the black gloves from her fingers, "is to get out of this my-mom-just-died outfit." She sighed, gesturing at her clothes. "You guys head to the Grill without me. I'll be right behind you, I—"

"—That's what you said three hours ago," Matt interjected.

"I know, I know. I just…got distracted. Food, flowers, thank you notes, Taylor Swift…"

"Taylor Swift?"

"_22 _is cathartic, okay?" she replied, a little offended.

Agitated, Caroline ran her fingers through her curls. "Look," she continued, biting her bottom lip, "I know you're worried about me and my state-of-humanity. And I appreciate it. Hell, I love you for it," she said, "But please just give me fifteen more minutes to myself. I need it. The isolation, it...helps me cope."

Matt and Elena exchanged reluctant glances.

The hidden secrets in her handbag made her arm burn with impatience. _Make them leave, make them leave!_

"Wait for me in the car if you want," Caroline said, tossing them her keys, "I won't be long."

Though her friends still appeared to be hesitant and skeptical—as if she'd make her escape to no-humanity-land by shimmying up the chimney, _seriously_—they nodded in acceptance of her proposed plan. Caroline escorted them to the door. Matt warned that he'd come knocking again in fifteen minutes time—ready or not; Elena, squeezing Caroline's arm as she passed, whispered, "We'll be right outside."

With her over-concerned friends finally outside, _thank God_, Caroline sped to her bedroom and slammed the door shut. Alone at last!

Crumpling her black silk gloves in her fists, she felt the anguish of her mom's death lodge in her throat. Suffocating in sadness once again, she took a second to breathe. _I am strong. _In, out. In, out. _I am strong._

Before sorrow and bitterness threatened to engulf her again, Caroline concentrated, focusing solely on one emotion: curiosity. Opening her eyes, she marched over to the bed and dumped the entire contents of her handbag onto her flower-patterned comforter. Amid tissues, mascara, and various shades of pink lip gloss (a girl needed options, after all), there sat a flat, black box tied in a white bow and a long envelope with her name written in an elegant, yet familiar, hand.

_Klaus. _

At this realization, Caroline's curiosity heightened. Not knowing what to expect, she decided to open the box first. Inside, resting atop a backdrop of black velvet, there resided a necklace of equal parts beauty, antiquity, and rarity. And for a few moments, all Caroline could do was stare at it…in awe.

Dangling from a platinum Byzantine chain, the pendant, which sparkled in a unique configuration of diamonds, melded a black crescent moon into rays of yellow sunshine, thereby producing the effect of an inextricable unity. In other words, it left the impression that one could not endure without the other. Separate or together, they—the sun and the moon—were two parts of the same whole; they occupied the same spatial universe. Always.

Flipping it over, Caroline also found an inscription:

_Caroline, Queen Warrior of Angels_

—_The sword of almighty sunshine, the kiss of fiendish nights_

Holding the gorgeous necklace in her palm, reading the personalized engraving, Caroline felt a shiver travel down the length of her spine. What was in that envelope? Fear caused her to hesitate; unabated interest caused her to continue, unsealing the envelope with her pinky. Pulling out the first of two papers, she unfolded it to find a small, 4x6'' drawing sketched in charcoal. As she looked at it, bewildered and disbelieving, she didn't know whether to be livid or touched. Perhaps she was both.

_Mommy. _

Caroline clutched the sketch tight to her chest, then cursed the Klaus-induced tears that had befallen her not once, but twice now. How pleased he would feel at this moment! What made her upset wasn't the fact that he'd chosen to draw the mother-daughter pair together, but that he'd managed to portray a candid, arms-wrapped-around-each-other, laughing moment so beautifully, so absolutely _them _that she burst into tears.

How dare he! How dare he make her laugh, make her cry! How dare he make her feel the strength of this fresh wound!

For a few minutes, Caroline just let herself cry. Emotions heightened, she cried rainbow tears—of happiness, of loneliness, of rage, of despair... Gravitating up and down the spectrum, she felt them all. Every. Single. One. She had Klaus to thank for that.

_The thoughtful_ _asshole._

Still a mixture of contradictory emotions, she wiped the tears from her face and removed the second slip of paper from the envelope. Unfolding it revealed a note written in neat, bold letters. It read as follows:

_Caroline,_

_I once promised you that I'd never return to Mystic Falls. And so I haven't—not technically. Though I expect I exist somewhere between friend and enemy, I still felt the need to include some one-thousand-year-old wisdom. And here it is: Don't be afraid to carry it all with you. Because you can._

_My sincerest condolences__, _

_Klaus_

After several re-reads, Caroline dropped the letter to her knees and then collapsed against her favorite stuffed elephant, snuggling it close. It felt so good to lie still like this. No crying, no thinking, just…existing.

Unfortunately, once she'd reconciled herself to the stillness, her ass started buzzing. It was an unkind reminder that her fifteen minutes alone nearly had elapsed. Letting out a sigh, Caroline climbed off her bed and grabbed her phone. She had a text from Enzo. Dodgy drinking plans or not, he expected her to show up. And soon. No excuses this time.

Caroline dressed quickly. Aiming for comfort and efficiency, she chose a pair of dark jeans, a black sweater, and traded her high-heeled pumps for a pair of snakeskin salmon flats, then arranged her hair in a high ponytail. After wiping off the smeared mascara left under her eyes, she turned back to the bed. Klaus' gifts, which rested innocently amid discarded purse items, seemed to stare back at her. Waiting.

Suddenly, a pang shot across her heart. It felt like an arrow that strikes the center of a target. Sharp. Precise. Specific.

Though she'd been a blind idiot not to recognize it before, Caroline realized that Klaus did all of this...violent, verbal tirade included...to help her. To make her stronger. To show her how to embrace darkness, humanity intact.

And that knowledge, which hit her in a strange, nauseating mix of contented sorrow, made her love him and hate him in the same moment. Yet, somehow, those contradictory emotions felt satisfying, even pleasant. For the first time, she felt at home straddling the line between light and dark.

So, although no words could express the profundity of her revelation adequately, or what it meant to her, she texted Klaus these two: _Thank you_. And never had she meant two words more.

A car suddenly honked outside, breaking Caroline from her introspection. Time was up. Matt and Elena were waiting. And if she didn't emerge within the next minute, they'd bust down the door with vervain injections on the ready.

Determined to be quick, Caroline gathered the mess on her bed in one armful and shuffled to the hope chest residing at the foot of the bed. After dumping her things inside, she shut the lid with a _snap_ and flew out the door. She carried nothing with her but a cell phone, a handbag, and a sun-and-moon necklace that swayed in glittery decadence from around her neck—a beautiful reminder that while she carried nothing, she carried everything. Klaus was right, Caroline realized—she _could_ carry it all with her. And now, because of him, she did just that.


	2. Hiders-Seekers, Losers-Weepers

**Author's Note: I know it's taken _forever _for me to update, but the flu knocked me out of creative commission for a week. Also, this chapter ended up being a lot longer than I had originally intended (as is the story of anything and everything I write). I don't have a beta either, so I do all the editing myself. Anyways, enjoy! :)**

* * *

Counting to ten isn't much different than counting to infinity. It involves the same basic elements: Time. Patience. Monotony.

_One, Two, Three, Four, Five_…

The sound becomes a mathematical lullaby, hypnotizing the senses into a calming trance. The numbers, finding release in utterance or thought, produce a kind of repetitive meditation that suspend the mind into momentary serenity, making concentration more direct, not to mention more effective. That's why the most focused people, the neurotic counters, also tend to be the most calculating. They're the gifted hiders; they're the feared seekers. Knowing how to clear the chaos is their most valued skill...and their most lethal.

* * *

Whoever deemed hide-and-seek to be merely a child's game was a complete moron, at least in Caroline's opinion. It was a blast! To make it enjoyable and entertaining at any age, all people needed to do was adjust the specifications a little bit. A twist here, a caveat there…Get creative people!

It wasn't difficult. At all. She couldn't be the only person in the universe capable of innovation, could she?

_...I mean, honestly_.

Annoyed, sometimes Caroline wished she could snap her fingers and compel the imaginative inadequacy out of people. At the same time, however, she rather enjoyed passing through life as the pre-selected Queen of Fun. And with a game like hide-and-seek, the possibilities for fun were endless!

Alone, Caroline rested on her back in a patch of periwinkle. Crinkled leaves and purple flower petals littered her blonde hair like a crown; and with her eyes closed and her hands clasped tranquilly over her chest, it looked like the wood fairies had placed her under an enchanted sleep. Only she was neither asleep, nor was she alone...

"You've taken to napping in the woods, I see," a male voice said. His footsteps crunched along the forest floor until he reached a mossy log near her head.

Caroline sighed, but didn't open her eyes. "I'm not napping."

"I see. So, what _are_ you doing?"

"Counting."

"Counting, huh?" He paused and then took a step closer, lowering the tone of his voice as he spoke. "You're avoiding me."

At this, Caroline opened her eyes and rose to her feet. "I'm not avoiding you, Stefan." She swatted away at the dirt that clung to her black skinny jeans. "Like I explained to you earlier on the phone, I already had plans this afternoon—plans that you're interfering with at the moment."

"Go home," she added with a pat on his chest, "We'll talk later when I get back to the dorms."

Stefan clenched and unclenched his fists.

"We need to talk about this now."

"I'm busy now."

Caroline flashed to a cluster of trees two hundred feet away, Stefan close on her heels. Arms behind her back, she sauntered down the different rows of hemlock, spruce pine, and black walnut trees in a skipping sort of excitement, her steps occasionally halted to lift branches, inspect trunks, or run her fingers through dead orange needles on the ground. Though she seemed to wander in winding, directionless patterns, her movements betrayed a determined purpose. She was on the hunt…for something.

Finally, after chasing her through the woods at vampire speed for a good ten minutes, Stefan caught a break. Caroline stopped next to a black walnut tree that stood just behind an intricately carved wooden bench and a dirt trail. (A private little study getaway.)

Grabbing her swiftly by the elbow, he turned her to face him. "Stop running away from this, away from me!"

"For the last time, I am not running away," she replied with a roll of her eyes, "I. Am. _Busy_."

At this, Caroline shirked out of his grip and retrieved her phone from her back pocket. After a few clicks, she raised the phone to her ear and spoke into it. "Turn left at the bird fountain by the Science building," she said, "After you pass under the cherry trees, you'll come to a fork that feathers out in three different directions. Take the dirt path to the right. We're waiting just around the bend of pine trees."

With a quick swipe, she ended the call and turned to meet Stefan's probing gaze.

"Oh, so I'm allowed to stay now?"

Directing a quick glance back at the tree, Caroline smirked before moving to take a seat on the bench.

"I have some time before my friend gets here," she said with a shrug, "And since you basically stalked me here, I might as well listen to what you have to say. You know, since it _obviously _can't wait until later."

She gestured to the open spot next to her. "Sit. Talk. You're on the clock."

Tucking his hands into his pockets, Stefan plopped down beside her and crossed his foot over his knee. "Who was that on the phone?"

"A friend. You'll meet soon enough. Continue." Caroline crossed her arms and leaned back against the arm of the bench.

Stefan nodded and pursed his lips. Small talk was getting him nowhere, but he seemed unable to breach the subject he wanted to discuss. He looked uncomfortable. This caused him to fidget—he cracked his knuckles, wiped his hands against his jeans, clutched the back of his neck, and avoided eye contact.

Rubbing his eyes, he gripped the bridge of his nose and let out a long, frustrated sigh before saying, "I don't know what to say, Caroline. Tell me what to say to make this better."

"Maybe there isn't anything to say," she mumbled in response.

"How can you say that?" he asked, his eyes springing open. He pounded his fist hard against his knee. "I mean," he laughed without humor, "we can't just pretend nothing happened. Because—"

"—It's not a big deal, Stefan," Caroline interrupted. "It's fine, really. I'm fine."

"—When we went to pick up Liz's things from the sheriff's office that day…when we, when I—" Stefan paused, shaking his head, "It is a big deal."

"It's not."

"It is."

"It's _not_."

"We kissed, Caroline. The day your mother died…"

At this, Caroline let out an exasperated sound and hopped to her feet. "So what if we did?" she spat.

Throwing her blue-and-black patterned scarf over shoulder, she paced back and forth in front of him licking her lips, stopping every now and again to point at him as she spoke.

"So what if we kissed! It's not a big deal," she repeated. "It didn't mean anything, did it?"

While she paused to look at him here, he bowed his head and shuffled his fingers—his answer clear. Frowning, Caroline sat back down across from him, tucking a foot under her butt, and took his hand in hers. She patted his knuckles with her free hand.

"Look at me," she encouraged, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

When his brooding green eyes finally met hers, she continued. "If you're worried that I'm upset with you, that my heart was somehow broken by you—don't be. It wasn't. It's not."

Stefan tilted his head, listening.

"We've grown close over the past few years, particularly over these last few months. You've been the person, the one friend, who I've learned to rely on here—something my mom saw—and I really value that—I really value our friendship. That being said," she hesitated, clearing her throat, "It's only natural that one…or the both of us…at some point, would wonder if perhaps there couldn't be something more between us…"

As Caroline said this, Stefan flinched, almost as if he was in physical pain. Jerking his hand away, he said, "It's my all fault."

"How?"

"I wanted it to be perfect," he explained, "The right atmosphere, the right feelings, the right moment. There should've been joking and laughter and teasing…a normal, romantic build-up. Just to see if maybe I, just maybe…" Stefan sighed, shaking his head. "Instead, it happens when you're sobbing against my shoulder as we rifle through Liz's final letters as sheriff."

"You were consoling me." Caroline shrugged, letting out a little laugh. "Besides, that kiss was innocent."

"_Innocent?_" repeated Stefan incredulously. "How is kissing you—for the first time ever, I might add—while you're drowning in grief over your mother supposed to be construed as remotely innocent?"

Caroline toyed with her necklace, a habit she'd recently adopted while thinking. Spinning the sun-and-moon pendant between her fingers, she often allowed the diamonds to press into her skin and sparkle in the daylight, creating refracted rainbow shadows wherever she stood. That necklace somehow acted as her talisman of self-awareness—she understood herself when she held it, when she wore it. Caroline knew who she was, what she wanted, and who she wanted to become.

And although she tried to avoid it, it was in these quiet, pensive moments that her mind often wandered to _him_—to Klaus—in silent appreciation and tenderness. Not that anyone knew that.

"Because it was a kiss between friends and nothing more," Caroline replied with a smile.

Breaking free from her mindless reverie, she added, "There was no spark. No passion. No butterflies. It was our George and Izzie moment."

Stefan arched an eyebrow. "Who are George and Izzie?"

"_Grey's Anatomy? _Seriously, am I the only one who owns a television?"

Stefan bit his bottom lip, repressing a smirk.

"Never mind," she scoffed, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "The point is we shared an innocent kiss. It was innocent because it carried nothing with it but the love and comfort of a friend. And no moment—perfect or otherwise—could ever change that. You know that," she said, poking him playfully in the stomach, "and I know that."

Leaning forward on his elbow, coyness overtook his gaze as he asked, "So you thought the kiss fell flat, too?"

"Absolutely!" Caroline responded, blushing as she heard the word roll off her tongue with unfeeling bluntness. "Sorry…I just meant that it—the kiss—it was sweet. It was sweet, pleasant even…but—"

"—Something was missing?" Stefan finished, completing her thought.

Caroline nodded. Averting her gaze, she began twirling her necklace pendant in her fingers. Again, if only for a brief moment, she felt her thoughts float to Klaus.

His kisses weren't like Stefan's. Where Stefan kissed with a serene patience, like fervency would grow and develop over a slow eternity; Klaus kissed with a dizzying urgency, an insistent tug for _more_. Almost as if he feared the transient status of the connection, Klaus' lips assaulted hers with a plead to preserve, with a need to prolong. Where Stefan maintained lovely sameness; Klaus challenged with constant transformation. While one kiss was exquisite, one more would never be enough. Where Stefan's kisses left her thoughtful; Klaus' left her breathless and dazed.

At her admission of indifference, Stefan collapsed his face into his hands and laughed, his voice becoming muffled as he talked.

"My God!" he exclaimed, running his hands through his messy brown hair, "I'm so relieved to hear you say that! You can't imagine how relieved I am! I couldn't bear to hurt you, Caroline," he admitted, lifting his head to look her in the eyes, "…not in that way. I'd never forgive myself."

As a thankful, relieved, grin spread across his face, Stefan reached for Caroline's hand and placed a sweet kiss on her knuckles. "Our friendship means too much to me."

He squeezed her hand hard—physical reassurance that he meant what he said.

"Well, buck up, Broody McBroodster!" Caroline joked as she teasingly punched him in the shoulder, "Because this friend's not going anywhere. We can still love each other without being in love, right?"

"Right. Best friends for eternity?" Stefan offered, opening his arms for a hug instead of a handshake.

"Deal."

* * *

As they hugged, dispelling any lingering romantic misgivings, Caroline caught sight of a shape in the distance.

"Crap, I almost forgot." She clapped her hands in excitement. "Let the games begin!"

Jumping up, almost shoving a perplexed Stefan off her accidentally, she started sprinting down the dirt path (at human speed) in the opposite direction from where they came, disappearing around a corner of pine trees.

"Jess! Where the hell are you going…_Jess!_" she yelled, waving her arms in frantic circles. "Over here, over _here_!"

When she re-emerged from the dense foliage, Caroline walked arm-in-arm with a petite girl who looked to be around college-age. Adorned in a black leather jacket and a flowy tangerine sundress, the girl tossed her long black ringlets over her shoulder. As a result of their laughing conversation, the girls made their way back to Stefan slowly.

"So much for not abandoning me," he said as they approached, "I feel like a discarded puppy."

To further dramatize his mock pouting, he jutted out his bottom lip in an embellished frown.

Shaking her head, Caroline laughed. "Jess, this is my highly exaggerative friend, Stefan."

Shielding her mouth from him, she added in a whisper, "Don't believe a word he says."

"Hey, now! Secrets don't make friends."

Stefan elbowed Caroline playfully; then extended a handshake to Jess.

"Nice to meet you," she responded, shaking his hand.

"How do you two know each other?"

"European history last semester," Jess said as she fidgeted with the straps of her backpack, "Care had the best flashcards. I wouldn't have been able to keep my academic scholarship without her."

Sheepish, Caroline twisted the daylight ring on her index finger.

"You see, I suck at memorizing dates. I always have." Removing the bag from her shoulders, she rested it against one of the bench's wooden legs on the ground. "But she—bumping Caroline with her hip"—constructed this awesome color-coding system that correlated historical dates and events with colors. It worked like a charm."

Her brown eyes brimming with appreciation, Jess threw an arm around her friend's waist in a half-hug. "Because of her, I aced the class after that."

Stefan rocked back on his heels, his hands in the pockets of his green zip-up hoodie. Squinting to avoid the directness of the sunlight, he winked at Caroline, and pretending to whisper, said to Jess, "She's the best person I know."

"Me too," Jess agreed.

Suddenly, feeling extremely flattered yet self-conscious at the same time—a deep red began to seep into Caroline's ordinarily pale cheeks—she snapped back into focus. She remembered why they were here.

Yanking Jess by the hand, she navigated the girl around the wooden bench, trudging her through muddy grass and dandelions.

"Now that introductions are over," she said as they walked, "Let's get started."

Caroline heard Stefan rub his hands together in readiness behind them. "What's on the study agenda today? Biology? Calculus? Philosophy?"

"We're not here to study," Caroline snapped, nodding devilishly at Jess. "We're here to finish a game."

"Could you use an extra player?"

Just as he said this, there was a loud snap. One of the tree's branches began to shudder and tremble despite the lack of wind, causing a shower of walnut leaves to coat the forest floor in a blanket of green. Kicked from their branches, walnuts plopped to the ground like springing rocks, rolling under trampled leaves and splattering against moist moss pockets surrounding the tree's trunk. Caroline ducked under the lowest branch, braving the falling walnut pellets by using her forearms like a shield. She peered up into the inside, squinting.

"There's no point in climbing higher," she bellowed into the leaves, "I found you fair and square. You lost—now climb down."

Smacking the dirt from her hands in disgust, Caroline came out from beneath the tree to re-join her friends who were standing nearby talking about post-college goals. Jess looked animated and vivacious as she described her journalist-to-be hopes to Stefan.

"Did you bring what I asked?"

Pausing in her conversation with Stefan, Jess nodded and patted her jacket. "They're in my pocket."

"Excellent."

"Caroline—" Stefan paused, sounding suspicious, "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

At this moment, the branches began to crack and shake again. This time, however, as well as showering the area around it with leaves, twigs, and walnuts, the tree also dropped a young man onto the ground with a large _thump_.

Grumbling, the man erected himself onto his feet with caution. As he stood, swiping at the muddy leaves stuck to his plaid button-down shirt, he revealed a tall frame with lean muscle. He hid a mass of wavy blond under a backwards Red Sox cap. His jaw clenched, he turned to face the others with an air of alarmed defiance.

Caroline could feel Stefan studying her, analyzing her motives behind a wrinkled forehead, but she ignored him. Instead, she flashed behind the newly departed tree accessory and jabbed her elbow into his kidney, causing him to lurch forward onto his knees.

"Johnny! I'm so glad you accepted your defeat with such honor and integrity today," she exclaimed with bubbly acidity. "After all," she goaded, her hands ripping his hair as she dragged him along behind her with ease, "nobody likes a sore loser."

With a flick of her hand, she tossed him like a pair of dirty, crumpled jeans at her friends' feet. Circling him in calculated, predatory steps, she said, "I, however…I _love _to win."

Stefan stepped between them.

"What exactly are you winning here, Care?"

"The game, Stefan," she said with a cocky smile, "I'm winning the game."

Bending to his knees, he hoisted Johnny upright and pushed him next to Jess, acting like a vampire wall of defense. Though he said nothing, his crossed arms held his intended meaning: To hurt them, you must go through me.

Approaching her, Stefan grabbed Caroline by the shoulders. "Humiliation? Cruelty? Lack of humanity? That's a damn dangerous came to play, don't you think?"

His fingers dug into her jean jacket with resolute roughness as he attempted to make her understand. "This isn't who you are," he said, shaking her, "You're better than this."

At this, with Stefan coddling her, his eyes beseeching that she embrace her positive morality, Caroline knocked his hands away and then broke into uncontrollable laughter. She couldn't help herself.

"Oh my God, would you just _relax_? I haven't turned into some soulless, blood-sucking Barbie villain with no reference to my humanity, okay?" Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she continued, "When my mom died, I could have. But I didn't; I won't. I know what I'm doing. So…back off!"

_Just wait, _her icy gaze implored. _Just wait._

Abandoning his protect-the-humans stance, Stefan looked a little less suspicious than he did a few seconds ago. Still a tad unconvinced, however, he maintained a cautious air.

Caroline scoffed. As she flashed next to Johnny, she gave him a pat on the back and said, "We were just playing hide-and-seek." Nudging him, "Right?"

Johnny gulped, unable to speak.

"Right," Jess agreed.

Though she had remained quiet up until this point, Jess now sauntered over to Johnny—her face beaming with fond affection—and looped her arm through his, using her free hand to trace the scruff along his jawbone. After that, she placed a quick, sweet kiss on his cheek.

"Since my boyfriend prides himself in his ability to conceal, we figured he'd be the perfect addition to our little game."

"What's the unique twist?" Stefan asked unsmiling. "I know you have one, Caroline. So let's hear it."

"You are _such_ a buzzkill! This is exactly why I didn't invite you."

His disapproving gaze bore into her, but he gestured that she "get on" with the explanation.

"It's quite ingenious," Caroline admitted, cocking her eyebrow. "The same rules of hide-and-seek apply, of course." She flapped her hands flippantly. "Only in my version, there's an extra incentive to win…"

"If Johnny won," Jess said, still caressing her boyfriend lovingly, "Caroline would compel us both to forget that I found my scumbag boyfriend of two years in bed with his Spanish tutor."

"It didn't mean anything!" Johnny croaked with pleading eyes, "I swear, man, you've got to believe me."

"And if he lost…"

Nonchalant, Caroline interjected.

"—I'd eat him for lunch."

At the sound of this, Stefan stiffened. Rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie, he stepped forward, ready to take action. "I can't let you do that."

"It's already done! He lost. And now…" Caroline paused, shrugging her shoulders, "…he must pay the consequences."

Johnny jerked in an attempt to run, but Jess held him by the elbow—steady and firm. "Sorry, baby, but you're not going anywhere."

Flashing in front of Stefan before he could intrude, Caroline detained him with a calm, controlled stare. "Stay here. You will not move. You will not interfere. You will not help him."

Gripping her by the wrists, Stefan looked resistant.

"Best friends trust each other, remember?" she whispered so only he could hear, "I know what I'm doing. _Trust _me. Please."

Although it took a second, Stefan softened. "I may not understand you right now, but I do trust you. Go," he said reluctantly, "I won't stop you."

"Thank you."

After arching his eyebrow in warning, he leaned against the bench to observe. And to wait—in best-friend-trust.

* * *

Caroline strode back over to Johnny with an air of sass and dug her fingernails hard into his chest, signaling at Jess to release him.

After removing his baseball cap—which was actually hers—Jess tossed Caroline a Ziploc bag from her jacket pocket. Retrieving her backpack from the ground, she slung it over her shoulders and skipped down the same dirt path on which she arrived. Only looking back once, she blew him one last kiss and sent the words "I won't miss you" echoing along the wind.

As his girlfriend disappeared, abandoning him to his fate, Johnny backed away, his hands raised in submission. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Expose you for the liar that you truly are."

"I don't know what you—"

Her hands around his throat, Caroline zoomed at him like a linebacker and slammed his head against the tree.

"—Tell me what he wants!"

Unexpectedly, Johnny cackled.

For the first time since he entered the clearing, he abandoned his mask to reveal his true face. No fear, no concern, only pure malicious disgust. As Caroline rammed his head into the bark again, this time drawing blood, he sneered, almost as if he derived pleasure from her violence.

"Do you think I squirm that easily, sweet Caroline?"

"No, but I know a slimy worm when I see one." She pressed her fingers into his tonsils and squeezed. Hard. "And I _will _find a way make you squirm."

"You can't hurt me," he taunted, panting for air. "And even if you could, you wouldn't dare."

Raising his hands as if in prayer, he flicked his fingers and fell into a trance, a chant rolling off his lips in a low hum...but nothing happened. No dust. No wind. No fire. Nothing.

Panicked, Johnny's eyes flung open. After shaking out his fingers, he started the Latin spell over, allowing his voice to emphasize certain words and syllables. But again…nothing. "What the—"

"All talk and no magic?" She paused, cocking her head to the side. "_Bummer_!"

Caroline kneed him in the stomach; then launched him into a puddle of mud near a small duck pond ten feet away.

Flashing after him, she lodged the heel of her brown ankle boot around Johnny's throat and made a seat of his chest, indifferent to his thrashing beneath her. Unzipping the Ziploc bag from Jess, Caroline extracted four capital letters and smacked them evenly across his chest.

"You know, it's bad enough to cheat on your girlfriend—who's way too good for you, by the way," she continued as she traced the letters with her fingers, "but letting Kai—your psychopath of a best friend—cheat you out of all your magic?" She paused, yanking his greasy, mud-stained head up to look at her. "That's just plain _stupid_."

When she finished pressing the letters, she clapped in girlish satisfaction. The effect was absolute perfection!

There, stuck on his white v-neck shirt, was one word written in an audacious red: _LIAR_.

Stefan, still observing from a distance, hardened at the sound of Kai's name. But bound by the promise of trust—per Caroline's request—he couldn't interfere. And he didn't.

"Don't be stupid for a third time, Johnny."

She tugged him to his feet, letting his sneakers dangle along the edge of the pond's murky shore. "Tell me what he wants, what he's after…or I swear to God, I'll eat your stubborn, no-longer-witchy ass for lunch...And _enjoy_ it."

"And tarnish your perfect vampire virtue?" Johnny laughed, pond water encircling his ankles, "I don't think so."

"Fine. Have it your way," Caroline shrugged. "Unlike you—I am not all talk."

She tore the plaid button down from his arms, and then spun him onto his knees in the water with an arm clenched behind his back and his neck tilted, exposed and ready for the taking.

As Caroline bent her face toward his jugular, the veins beneath her eyes began to pulsate. Closing her eyes, that sweet, copper scent flooded her nose, engulfing her body in that unquenchable fire of thirst, alerting her of blood's close proximity. Vampire instincts awakened, she not only heard, but felt their encouragement: _Bite. Drink. Kill. _

Her fangs descended. Sharp, powerful, and deadly, they were primed and ready to puncture flesh...And so was she.

"NO!" Stefan shouted.

With her eyes bloodshot with rage and hunger, a low hiss vibrated in her throat. Then, without hesitation, she clamped her fangs onto the side of Johnny's throat and sucked in a no-mercy frenzy. The more he resisted, the faster, the harder, she slurped and swallowed. He became her human lollipop, the forbidden dessert of darkness. A delectable treat until the last drop. And, oh, how she relished that salty taste of wickedness!

Blood trickled in a flowing stream—drenching not only Johnny's starch t-shirt, but also Caroline's pale, virtuous vampire chin. Her fangs pierced the skin on his neck with such accuracy, that had she not wanted to prolong his suffering, or had she no control, no focus, she could've ended his life with two over-sized gulps. As it was, however, that wasn't the aim.

Johnny's screams electrified the clearing. The woods echoed with the horrors of his agony. But while Caroline clung, no one could stop her; no one could save him. The power was hers—the power to restore life, the power to eliminate it. His life…his death…the decision rested between her poised fangs. Literally.

_Embrace darkness; don't become it._

Somehow, in the space of a moment, Klaus' advice became her mantra. And so, at the precise moment Johnny believed that he would die, that she would suck the last sliver of life from his veins, Caroline paused, relinquishing her death-bite.

"I could kill you. I could end your suffering. Right here, right now," she purred in his ear, "All you have to do—" she lifted his chin "—is tell me what I want to know. Answer my questions, Johnny, and I'll kill you quickly. If not…"

She paused here, allowing him to fill in the blanks.

Johnny peered up at her with heavy, lidded eyes. Though he was exhausted, the dread on his face said everything: Dying was not what he wanted. Not today, not anytime soon. But a slow death? That was worse.

"What are Kai's plans?" Caroline asked again.

Escaped from the 1994 prison world, Kai Parker, the resident egomaniac of the Gemini coven, spent the last few months of his new-found freedom terrorizing Mystic Falls. Wherever he traveled, wickedness and destruction followed. Worst of all, however, he siphoned magic. He absorbed it, collected it, and protected it...sucking it from any and all supernatural phenomena he encountered along the way. Magical supremacy charged him like a high voltage battery. In essence, he became a ticking bomb Caroline and her friends needed to neutralize. Immediately.

Unfortunately, so far, Kai had proven to be not only resourceful, but devious. His purpose, his grand plan, it avoided detection.

And while the unknown threat he posed generated alarm among her and her friends, Caroline found the distraction from her grief helpful. She needed a hyper-focus. Though it sometimes manifested in an obsessive recklessness, it granted her the control she required to survive the loss of her mother…humanity intact.

Weak, Johnny hesitated in response.

"Freya. He wants to reunite with Freya," he breathed, barely above a whisper, "That's why he's collecting magic. Why he—why he needs the ascendant."

After he said this, Caroline dashed them both out of the pond. Johnny rolled onto his side in the grass just as Stefan approached.

"Bonnie," Stefan murmured into her ear, "She has the ascendant; she isn't safe. I need to warn her."

He touched Caroline's shoulder, applying pressure, a warning reminding her not to do anything she'd regret; but she shrugged it off.

"Go," she said in dismissal. Her gaze never left Johnny. "I'm almost done here."

With an apprehensive nod, Stefan vanished. Off to alert Bonnie.

* * *

Alone now, the only detectable presence was that of robins building nests of twigs and moss, deer trampling through leaves to find water, and geese flapping, splashing, and bathing in the pond. Thankful for the privacy, Caroline kneeled next to Johnny's head and continued her questions. Perhaps now, without interruption, she'd get somewhere.

"Who's Freya?"

"A powerful witch with ancient ties. Kai's perfect magical complement."

Caroline scoffed, clearly disgusted, "You make them sound like puzzle pieces…or worse, supernatural soulmates."

Rolling onto his elbows, Johnny laughed weakly. Coughing, his blue eyes fixed her with a stern stare. "Who says they're not?"

"Oh, come on! This is real life, not _Twilight_!"

"All I can tell you is that where Kai is weak; Freya is strong, and vice versa. The ancestors designed it that way to—" he grimaced as he rolled onto his side"—to preserve balance. Their individual powers alone are deadly…but together?"

He paused, rubbing his bleeding neck wound against the sleeve of his shirt, "They would be almost invincible."

Leaning forward, inches from Johnny's face, she asked, "What do they want with the ascendant?"

"It's the key ingredient. It'll provide them with the one thing they want, but don't have."

"Which is?"

Drained, Johnny wheezed and his head lolled onto his bicep.

"Immortality," he murmured at last.

A shiver traveled down Caroline's spine as he said this. Though she'd only been part of the supernatural world for a few years, she understood one thing clearly: Magic was a precarious treasure. A treasure that, if it fell into the wrong hands, would be cataclysmic. In other words, this was _not _good news.

As it was, mortal witches already possessed formidable potency with their ability to manipulate nature. But immortal witches? What kind of abominable threat would they pose? Without needing to recycle, let alone share their power with their descendants, Kai and Freya would continue to grow in unnatural strength. Forget formidable! Before long, they'd be completely and utterly indestructible, just as Johnny suggested. They'd be the King and Queen of North America, of the planet, of the universe!

A young, naïve, and inexperienced vampire Caroline might be, but there was one thing she was not: afraid. She would stop Kai and Freya; and she would win. How? She had no fucking clue!

Johnny groaned, breaking her from her thoughts. "That's all I know," he said, "You have your information. So kill me and be quick about it."

Dropping her fangs, Caroline hissed and leaned close to his face, pushing sweaty bangs off his forehead with her fingers before flipping him onto his back. Licking his blood from her fingers, a delighted maliciousness took over her tone when she spoke.

"Oh…I'm going to kill you. I'm going to make you sorry, so, _so_ sorry—" she crooned, "Before we're finished, you'll regret that I know you…that we ever met."

"But you said—you said—that if I answered your questions," he stammered, attempting to crawl away on his elbows, "that it'd be quick."

"Don't worry, Johnny, I keep my promises. It _will _be quick…" She patted his shoulder, pressing him back against the grass. "…but it'll be painful, too."

And it was. Caroline slayed him just like she'd promised: swiftly and excruciatingly.

All in all, it took her two minutes to kill Johnny's reputation as Whitmore College stud forever. All she'd needed were three things: 1) A brilliant idea 2) Poised fangs 3) Compulsion. And so, leaving Johnny sleeping and clueless underneath the shade of a walnut tree, Caroline wiped his mind clean of his witch-filled past. In its place, however, for Jess, she flooded him with one emotion that'd forever outweigh all the others: guilt.

As she turned to leave, a bold red caught her eye. Caroline looked back at Johnny one last time. There, still stuck against the front of his white t-shirt, stood the one word he'd never be able to forget: _Liar. _

Carved like blood in his chest, they read like the scarlet letters of truth. The whole world would see them now; the whole world would know. (At least they would every day for the rest of the semester). And nothing, at least in Caroline's mind, had ever felt more beautifully justified.

* * *

The sky brooded with dark grey clouds, banishing the April sunlight back into concealment. The air, thick and dense, clung about with a stale, stagnant pause which aroused suspicion and produced an unconscious panic to wait amid the disconcerting silence. No crack of thunder, bluster of wind, or droplet of icy rain needed to descend to alert her. Caroline felt the truth vibrate in her bones: something sinister loomed. For her, the counting, those endless hours, minutes, and seconds she'd spent preparing to unlock Kai's intentions, were over. It was now time to act. The time had arrived—_either seek or be found._

Caroline slammed the front door of the Salvatore boarding house shut. Marching into the living room, she found Bonnie and Elena sitting on a couch in front of the fireplace—waiting.

"I know why that lunatic's hoarding magic," Caroline said matter-of-factly.

Plopping down next to Elena, she hugged a pillow to her chest. "Immortality," she continued, "Kai and this ancient witch-bitch named Freya want to be the world's first immortal witches. Isn't that freaking _insane_?"

Instead of the satisfaction (and the questions) she'd hoped to inspire from her friends, Caroline's Kai-revelation only seemed to generate silence.

"Well? Say something! We need a plan!"

Overcome, Bonnie and Elena just gawked at her.

"Please tell me you didn't kill anyone to acquire this new information?"

Though expressed with concern, Elena's words still held an undercurrent of judgment. She disapproved. Plainly and openly.

Bonnie, who seemed more sympathetic to the idea, averted her gaze and cracked her knuckles, electing not to insert her opinion into the conversation just yet.

Caroline felt affronted. Ever since her mom's death, her friends treated her like some damaged baby bird with ripped feathers. Was she injured? Absolutely. She loved Liz; she mourned Liz; she missed Liz. And she would continue to do those things—love, mourn, and miss—every single day for the rest of her eternal life. But did that somehow render her fragile? Pathetic? Helpless? Absolutely not!

She was cracked perhaps, but not broken. A flightless bird she'd never remain! Soar she would; soar she must! If Caroline could realize and accept her own resiliency, why couldn't her friends? Had they drifted that far apart?

"_What?_" Caroline exclaimed, hopping up. "Are you seriously accusing me of murdering-for-information?"

"No, of course not." Elena played coy. "It's just—when Stefan left you, he seemed worried you might…" She paused, unable to find the right words. Running her fingers through her silky hair, she added with a sigh, "…I don't know, do something you might regret later?"

Ah, yes, Stefan. Caroline should have known. He must've been the one to inform Bonnie and Elena of her new, "dark" investigative tactics. _Figures._

"I didn't. I don't regret a single thing I did to Johnny."

"Stefan said you fed on him…"

Caroline shrugged. "So?"

"So, that's not what you do. It's not who you are, Care—"

"—You know what, I am sick and tired of hearing that, of being treated like some delicate piece of china that's about to shatter into a billion no-humanity pieces," Caroline interrupted. "I'm not _like_ you, Elena!"

Haughty and offended, Elena flashed in front of her with crossed arms. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't get defensive," Bonnie said pointedly, speaking for the first time.

Leaning over the arm of the leather sofa, she nodded at Caroline and said, "Let her finish."

In submission, Elena resumed her seat. The scowl on her face, however, betrayed that she hadn't yet abandoned her self-righteous attitude.

Pacing before the fireplace, losing patience, Caroline massaged her temples and crunched stray fire embers beneath her boots. "Since we've known each other forever, you both presume to know me, to understand me…but you don't," she said, "I'm not who I was—I'm not the same person anymore."

"Then, please," Elena replied sarcastically, her head resting lazily against her hand, "tell us who you are."

That was it, the last straw. There'd be no more hypocrisy, no more judgment, only pure, unadulterated truth.

With her hands on her hips, Caroline rounded on her friend with a huff.

Her skin sizzled with courage, with strength, with pride—it beamed from her like a giant orb of sunshine, much like the sparkling yellow diamonds on her necklace—and she'd scorch all those who dared to condemn her. Gone were the days of feeling ashamed and insecure. She wouldn't put up with this crap anymore. She deserved better.

"I'm a vampire," she responded. "But unlike you," she continued, her noise lifted in the air, "I am not afraid of the monster within anymore. I embrace it. I understand it. I control it."

Caroline traced the exposed skin on her forearms gently with her fingertips. "A perky viciousness runs through these veins, Elena…and I accept it," she said with a satisfied smile, "I accept _me _now. Fully. I guess the only question is…can _you_?"

Excusing herself, Caroline retreated to the back patio to think. It wasn't to escape Elena, who apologized immediately for her short temper and lack of compassion, her brown eyes brimming with guilt and regret, but to process.

Here were the facts: Kai and Freya were coming. They needed the ascendant, which Bonnie possessed. If they captured it, if they succeeded in their plot for witch immortality, they would become apocalyptic hurricanes of destruction—unencumbered and uninhibited by any and all opposition. They'd all suffer. Or worse, die.

Here was the problem: No plan existed to stop them.

In other words, now was so _not_ the time for disorganization and inefficiency. While Caroline wanted to hammer out details for possible solutions, Elena seemed determined to wait until the boys arrived.

"Ten more minutes," she'd said as Caroline slipped out the back door, "We'll think of something when we're all together."

What Elena didn't seem to understand, however, is that they'd needed a strategy ten minutes ago…ten hours ago…Hell, ten days ago! This game of hide-and-seek grew more and more treacherous by the second, and if they kept waiting…they'd lose more than some silly game.

And so, there, on the cement steps of the back patio, with her head on her knees, Caroline sat and contemplated. _What should we do? What should we do? What should we do?_

Fisting her hair, she rolled her head to the right and stared at her phone. It rested next to her on the top step. With her thumb poised and hovering, the bold, black letters of his name taunted her, telling her that if she wanted help, if she wanted advice, all she had to do was press _send. _All she needed to do was call and he'd be there. He'd be snarky and smug most likely, but there. Somehow, whether she wanted him or not, he always was.

Caroline hesitated, biting her bottom lip.

The chilly wind picked up, blowing her hair off her face and misting her blonde curls with icy precipitation. A spring storm brewed in the distance.

"Are you going to make that call or just stare at your phone all day?"

Lowering herself onto the cement steps, Bonnie handed Caroline her phone.

"Call him," she encouraged, "Klaus may be monstrous, but he's clever and cunning; and God knows he's talented at defeating his enemies."

The phone felt heavy in Caroline's palm, the weight of indecision pressing down on her.

"Call him," Bonnie insisted again, shrugging, "He may be able to help."

Pressing her forehead to her knees and hiding her face, Caroline's voice became subdued. "That's what I'm afraid of…"

"What do you mean?"

Bonnie nudged her, trying to break her from her hermit pose. When that didn't work, she looped her arms around Caroline's elbow and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Talk to me," she whispered as she rested her chin against her friend's shoulder.

With a sigh, Caroline's head popped up. She leaned back against the brick wall bannister and immediately felt for her necklace, which was tucked underneath the fabric of her purple shirt.

She explained Klaus' impromptu visit. The isolation she craved, but couldn't find; the blood binging, the alcohol guzzling, and the hours and hours of avoiding; the unexpected appearance of Rebekah and "projected" Klaus; the temptation she felt to "blot it all out," ridding herself of the pain of motherly loss—Bonnie heard it all.

More than that, though, Caroline illustrated the profound effect of Klaus' not-so-welcome interference. He had forced her to confront Liz's death. As she had danced around the edge of that whirling black hole, springing and ready to dive into the oblivion of no-humanity, he had yanked her backwards. He had pulled her out, away. Far, far away.

At times, it stung. Klaus wasn't afraid to use the vicious fangs of truth or honesty. And though she hated him for it in that moment, she'd realized not long afterwards that she needed that rage and fury he'd encouraged her to embrace. She needed those emotions. She needed to feel them, to harness them, to revel in them...

Enduring the pain, controlling the darkness—that's what made her strong. That's what gave her power.

"Klaus saved me," Caroline told Bonnie.

Holding a mirror that reflected a warrior, Klaus had reminded her of the indomitable ruler that resided within her, the person with the control to choose who and what she wanted to be: a vampire. As long as she knew and accepted that simple fact, she didn't need to be afraid anymore. And she wasn't.

Bonnie listened to Caroline's tale with an attentive patience, nodding and asking questions at all the right moments. If she was surprised at Klaus' role in the matter, she masked it well. In fact, her expressions remained rather aloof, almost as if she were deep in thought.

When the story finished, an amused smile traveled across Bonnie's face.

"What?" Caroline asked, prepared for the worst.

"Nothing," she replied, repressing another smirk. "It's just—I've been wondering where you got that necklace."

Blushing, Caroline fiddled with the pocket of her jean jacket, refusing to make eye contact.

"It's new. You started wearing it not long after your mom died."

Leaning in, Bonnie lifted the necklace into her palm and twiddled the melded sun-and-moon pendant in her fingers, examining it, even flipping it over to read to the personal inscription.

"Fancy," she remarked as she released the chain, sitting back on her feet, "He always did have expensive taste."

Caroline clasped a hand over her necklace, adjusting it so that it pressed against the skin underneath her collar bone, inches above her heart.

"It's no big deal," she shrugged. "I wear it as a reminder, not a gift."

Bonnie looked skeptical.

"Regardless, that reminder seems to have left quite the impression…and so has he. Actually," she laughed, hugging Caroline's arm, "I'm kind of impressed."

"Really...why?"

"Because he understood you when no one else did," Bonnie admitted with a frown. Her eyebrows arched in surprise at her own words, at her own commendation of Klaus. Though she wasn't exactly a fan of his, or a friend, she still appeared to be grateful for his unselfishness in this regard—in his ability to help a grieving Caroline.

With her head resting against the brick wall, she turned to look at Caroline. "What you said in the house earlier was true," she said, "I didn't realize who you are, who you've become."

Bonnie tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear and continued. "But I'm beginning to now…I'm trying. Don't be afraid," she added with a whisper, "I'll always support you. That's what besties do."

Caroline exhaled and cuddled into Bonnie, contented at her friend's unconditional acceptance. "Thanks, Bon. I'm not afraid. Not anymore."

With her cheek pressed against her friend's head, she added, "Can you believe we have Klaus to thank for that?"

"No," Bonnie deadpanned, shaking her head, "Not really."

The girls giggled, filling both the patio, and their hearts, with a gaiety they hadn't known since Liz died. In that moment, they were just two friends enjoying a good joke. In that moment, nothing dangerous loomed. In that moment, they were normal.

* * *

Unfortunately, this cheerful "normalcy" came to a quick end. For as they laughed, distracted by their momentary relapse into a carefree life, the weather transformed from peaceful and cloud-filled to violent and aggressive, the purple-green sky electrifying the ground with streaks of lightning and dropping hail pellets the size of golf balls. The wind, hurricane-force strong, knocked Bonnie and Caroline backwards, forcing them to crawl against it on their knees…to no effect. They couldn't escape through it. Looking up, a flashing blue vortex burrowed from the edge of the Salvatore's roof to the cement steps, depositing a sinister shape hidden behind a smoky cloud.

Suddenly, the storm calmed. The sky resumed its previous grey appearance, opting for fine snow instead of hail, and the wind slowed to a chilly lull. A young man with dark hair, probably in his early 20's, stepped out from behind the smoke. He wore a Green Day t-shirt over long sleeves with the cuffs scrunched up his forearms.

As Caroline and Bonnie regained their feet, they exchanged panicked glances.

"Too dramatic?" he asked with a naughty grin, his arms spread wide, "I admit I opted for Lord-Voldemort-flair. He is just so much more _interesting _than that Harry Potter you all love, right?"

It was too late, Caroline realized. They had been found. Someone had come to collect. There was no plan; there was no escape; there was no secret weapon of defeat. They were trapped.

When neither one of the girls spoke, Kai strode forward with an excited, almost gleeful bounce and stopped in front of Bonnie. Lifting her chin with his index finger, he forced her to look at him.

She gazed back at him with disgust, jerking her head out of his grasp.

"Didn't miss me at all, huh?" he asked. "I must say I'm rather disappointed." He frowned and released a depressed sigh. "I've grown fond of you after our time spent together in 1994."

"What do you want, Kai?" Bonnie asked through clenched teeth.

Throwing an arm around her, Kai hugged her into his side with possessive force, his fingers caressing the bare skin of her arms with sadistic affection. He maneuvered them closer to the grill under the awning. Bonnie attempted to evade his clutch, but his hold remained firm.

"Bonnie, Bonnie…" he hummed against her ear, "You _know_ what I want—why I came here…"

Caroline clenched her fists at her side. Where the hell were her friends? Elena? Stefan? Damon? Enzo? There's no way they didn't see the commotion outside, let alone hear it. They should've been here by now! Unless…

"Forget it, Kai," Bonnie said, elbowing him hard in the ribs and setting his sneakers aflame. "I'm not giving you the ascendant. You'll have to kill me first."

He grabbed her by the hair before she could escape, throwing her like a rag doll onto her knees, his hands clutched around her throat. With a flick of his hand, water expelled the flames encircling his feet.

Petting her head, he placed a kiss against her hair and laughed. "You really are precious."

Gripping her by the shoulders, he tugged her to her feet. Kai spun Bonnie around to face him, bending his head until their noses were parallel. "While I find your fearlessness sexy," he said, dropping the sarcastic tone, "if you're not careful, it's what will get you killed."

He tapped her on the nose with his index finger and smirked. "I don't want to kill you, Bon Bon," he paused, his eyes black and serious, "…but I _will_."

Heat raced through Caroline. It radiated across her veins in different shades of light and dark, tingling her fingertips. Her palms pulsated with rage, with love. Looking down, she noticed that they glowed—one yellow, one black. Ignoring it, she focused on Kai.

"Get your hands off my best friend," Caroline spat as her fangs descended, "_Now._"

For the first time since he appeared, Kai noticed Caroline. Amused, he tilted his head and considered her. "How are you going to stop me, _vampire_?"

"By going all Khaleesi on your ass."

At this, Caroline charged. Diving through the air like some kind of vampire gymnast, she tackled Kai to the ground before he had time to react, giving Bonnie time to run. Pressing him into the concrete with her knees, she cocked her head back and nestled her fangs into his left shoulder. She bit and sucked with an unforgiving fury. _Die bastard, die! _

Kai's death meant nothing! Caroline wanted to rip life away from him. She wanted it shredded and tattered into pieces by her teeth, and her teeth alone. _Die, die, die! _She possessed the strength, the power, the resolve, to take it away. And she would. _Right now_—

An invisible force tore her from the ground and thrust her backwards, crashing her back against the bay windows. The glass shattered as she fell to her hands and knees, jagged shards of window cutting into her exposed flesh.

Panting and livid, Kai roared. "You shouldn't have done that. You really, _really_, shouldn't have done that."

Gaining his feet, he staunched the bleeding of his shoulder wound with his right hand and used his other to cast spells sending furniture, branches, and light fixtures flying at Caroline's head.

She dodged the first few like hurdles, but then found herself grounded when a rocking chair connected with shin. Resilient, she rebounded to her feet in a flash.

"You're springy and willful. I like that," Kai commented as they circled one another, "You'll be more fun to kill."

He sent a fire poker soaring at her chest like a dart. Spinning—ballerina style—she avoided the hit, causing it to fly onto the floor of the library inside.

"Stop!" a female voice shouted.

It was Bonnie. She stood in front of the French doors that opened into the kitchen. Reaching behind her, she stuck a hand into her back jeans pocket.

"I have it," she said, extracting the item. She placed a gold, star-shaped object into her right palm. "I have the ascendant right here."

Crossing his arms, Kai's back relaxed and he lowered his hands. He smiled. "So noble of you," he clapped, moving towards her with enthusiasm, "I knew you wouldn't let your friend die, Bon Bon. Four months with you taught me that much," he winked.

"Bonnie, NO!" Caroline gasped. "What the hell are you doing?"

Stunned, Caroline couldn't move. This couldn't be real! This couldn't be happening! Was Bonnie just going to willingly hand over the ascendant to this psycho? _Seriously?!_

Kai bounded, almost skipped, over to her, a boyish excitement plastered on his face.

It was like Christmas morning to him probably, Caroline thought. Santa was good; Santa was real. The ultimate present had been delivered—wrapped neatly and elegantly in a flawless red bow. All he needed to do now was open it and release the magic inside. (Much to her horror.)

"Do you want it?" Bonnie taunted flirtatiously. Holding the ascendant against her chest, she rubbed it against the exposed skin by her collar bone.

Quirking an eyebrow, he traced the veins of her free hand with his thumb and extended his left hand in acceptance of the offering. "Oh, I want it," he said as he kissed her knuckles seductively, "I want it bad."

Bonnie leaned in, inches from his face. Fluttering her eyelashes, she looked him dead in the eye, pausing only seconds before their lips collided. With a shrug, she whispered, "Too bad."

In a quick, unexpected movement, before Kai could recover, she turned and underhanded Caroline the ascendant. With only a nod at her friend, an unspoken signal asking that she trust her, Bonnie extended her arms in a pushing motion and chanted three words over and over again—_Ritus eunt lux _(travel with light)—with a practiced concentration.

Before long, fireworks sprang at Caroline from Bonnie's fingers. They exploded and detonated around her body in an infinite stream of chaos, erasing all known life, Bonnie and Kai included, from her view, blanketing her in a swirling turbulence of white and yanking her backwards like a flopping fish dangling from a fishhook. Not only that, but color crammed her senses: She tasted lavender, heard fuschia, touched periwinkle, smelled turquoise, and saw pumpkin. And yet, while some invisible gravity kept her steady and not flailing, Caroline continued to travel. To fall. She fell and fell and fell—an endless stream of somersaults and cartwheels into nothingness. Finally, a windy _whoosh_ prickled her skin, giving her goosebumps—the good kind—before the zooming stopped.

The ride had ended: Caroline had arrived. _But where?_

A peaceful blackness surrounded her wherever she existed right now. With a silky coziness encircling her head and a satisfying warmth covering the rest of her body, Caroline nestled into the tender something that stroked her hair with softness. It made her feel comfortable and safe. Content, she sighed into it.

Despite this, however, she sensed that she wasn't alone in this place. Were those _fingers_ caressing her hair?

Caroline's vampire senses detected a heartbeat—an anxious one at that—and while the _thump-thump-thump _sounded familiar, she couldn't place the owner of it. That thumping coupled with those ragged, impatient breaths, made her curious to know who this person was. Who waited? Who tended to her sleeping form with such tangible anxiety? Whose warm breath tickled her skin?

With her head still pounding out the back of her skull, however, Caroline decided against opening her eyes. But just because she wasn't ready to see this new world yet, didn't mean she wasn't ready speak in it.

"Where the hell am, I?" Caroline croaked finally, her throat dry, "Oz?"

Someone chuckled near her.

"I'm afraid not, love," Klaus whispered into her ear, "But if it'll make you feel better, I'll buy you a pair of ruby slippers."

Caroline froze.

"Welcome to New Orleans," he said.

* * *

**Additional Note: I'm not sure how many characters from TO I will/should include in further chapters. There definitely will be a few, however. Right now, I'm leaning against including Hope/the baby plot because I think it would detract from the story I'm attempting to tell. Thoughts? I welcome any and all feedback. Thanks for reading!**


	3. Anywhere But Here

**Author's Note: I've wanted to see Caroline in New Orleans since I started writing this story, but I wanted her arrival to unfold in an unconventional way. Below is the result. I hope you like it! Also, thank you, thank you for the reviews. I really appreciate the feedback. It plucks me with the courage to share and inspires me to continue writing, curious to see where the characters are headed-for good, for bad, or for ugly.**

**As Klaus would say, "Have at it!" :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any TVD/TO material.**

* * *

If there was anything that could force Caroline's eyes open, it was that.

"What the _hell _am I doing in New Orleans?" she asked as her head sprung up.

Dizzy, she regretted the movement immediately. In surrender, she allowed her head to fall back against the satin pillows on which she rested. Why did she feel so weak?

Klaus sat on a red cushioned chair near her head, his elbows resting on his knees. "Funny," he said, "I was going to ask you the same question."

Caroline looked around for the first time since opening her eyes. She found herself perched on a canopy bed in a spacious bedroom suite. Double-paned French doors opened onto a balcony littered with vivacious flowers of many different varieties and ivory curtains billowed in the windows against the windy breeze, allowing for natural light to stream across the floor. Dark-toned woods mixed with a combination of antique and modern furniture populated the space, somehow bridging old world relics with a contemporary flair in a fresh, seamless style.

Wrapped in a silky floral comforter, she basked in the airy yet elegant feeling of the room. It was lovely. Warm and cozy, the room emanated an enchanting lightness that made Caroline wonder about who it belonged to…you know, under normal circumstances. Her money was on Rebekah.

As she yawned against the elegant wood headboard, she peered at Klaus curiously. He looked unkempt, Caroline noticed. At least for him. His blond hair stood up in odd directions and his clothes, which were wrinkled, betrayed spots stained with blood and liquor around his neckline. Not only that, but his eyes looked duller than usual. Dark circles clung to the skin beneath them, masking their bright blue fierceness. All in all, he looked exhausted.

How long had he been here? Better question: How long had _she_ been here? Minutes? Hours? Days? Time blurred in an indistinct haze amid the swirling blackness.

"Bonnie sent me," she replied.

At this, Caroline stirred, kicking her feet free from the silky sheets.

"Oh my God, Bonnie! What happened to Bonnie? I have to find her!" Tossing pillows and covers aside, she patted the bed frantically. "Where's my phone? Give me a phone! I—I need to make some calls."

"We'll get to all that, love," Klaus said as he pushed her back against the pillows a little forcefully. "Tell me what happened first."

Drained, she couldn't struggle against him even if she'd tried. Why did she feel like this? With her head pounding, she couldn't formulate a plan, let alone a coherent thought about Bonnie's whereabouts. Not right now.

"I don't know what happened," Caroline said, rubbing her throbbing forehead with the back of her hand. "One minute, I was in Mystic Falls with Bonnie fighting that lunatic, Kai, the next I was—"

"—Unconscious in the middle of my courtyard?" Klaus interrupted.

"What? _Seriously?_ Talk about humiliating…"

Paying no heed to her gasping commentary, Klaus stood up and paced along the floor in front of the bed with a not-so-repressed agitation. A scowl, not a smile, overtook his lips. In fact, he seemed more enraged at Caroline's New Orleans awakening than he did intrigued.

_It's not like I had any control over the matter, _she thought.

Although it was ridiculous, Caroline felt a pang of disappointment. What had she expected? Klaus made that offer years ago. So much time had passed, so much had happened. Things were different now—_she_ was different. Did she really think he'd be happy, perhaps a little smug, at the prospect that she inevitably _had _"showed up at his door?"

By the look on his face, pleased he was not.

"After tending to some werewolf business in the bayou, I came home…and there you were—" he began, his jaw clenched, "—sprawled and emaciated in the middle of the ground, blood splattered across your chin and down the front of your shirt. Not yours, I gather?"

"No, not mine." Caroline confirmed.

Klaus nodded, unmoved. Then, repressing a low growl, he turned and rushed at her without warning, plopping down beside her on the bed with his fists clenched behind his back.

Caroline gulped. As she sank further into the headboard, hugging herself, she stared back at him unblinkingly, not knowing what to expect. A shiver ran down her spine as he leaned toward her…closer…and closer…so close that she could almost feel the intensity scorching her skin.

She couldn't move; she dared not breathe. Paralysis had taken over and had suspended her in anticipation. Klaus had this uncanny way of ripping her open. Unfortunately, Caroline could never tell if that meant he wanted to expose her hidden self…or rip it to shreds.

Yellow flickered across his eyes. Removing a hand from behind his back, he thrust an object into her face.

"This isn't yours either," he hissed, waving the ascendant, "And yet you possess it—it was clutched to your breast like a poisonous apple primed and prepared to kill."

At this, a maniacal laugh escaped his throat. With him so close, his breath felt hot and salty against her face. "Did you truly expect it to be that easy, Caroline? You fool!"

Glaring, he paused. Whatever he said next, he wanted to enunciate it—to make it understood. "I thought you were smarter…stronger….than the rest of them," he said, brushing bangs from her forehead with his fingers in an intimate rage, "…but it seems I was mistaken."

He leaned closer. Their noses almost touched. "In fact, you're the worst of them all," he whispered spitefully, "You're _pathetic_."

Though Caroline was laden with fatigue and confusion, Klaus' words sent rivets of hurt surging through her. Not only hurt, but anger. It rippled through her in flashes of bright red and set her body aflame, boiling her with the desire to retaliate. _Pathetic_? She'd show him pathetic!

Crawling onto her hands, she lurched at him with an adrenaline she didn't think she possessed. With hands on his shoulders and tears stinging her eyes, she pinned him beneath her, using her knees to lock his hips into place. "Give me the damn ascendant, Klaus!"

"And willingly place the object meant to kill me in your traitorous little hands?" Klaus roared, "_NEVER!_"

Klaus thrashed beneath her, but not for long. He used his legs to knock her knees outward before flipping her onto her back, pressing her arms firmly into the mattress. Still gripping the ascendant, he pressed the points of the star hard into her right wrist.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" she exclaimed. Her blue eyes peered up at him with challenge and austerity. "You think my friends sent me here with that—" she nodded at the ascendant "—to kill you?"

Bending, his nostrils flared.

"Yes."

Little wrinkles of fury radiated across his forehead, Caroline saw. His jaw, compressed in a stern, serious line, contrasted the softness of his eyes which illustrated the agony of betrayal, of disappointment, he felt, but would never express. He truly believed that she had come here—wielding the ultimate weapon of destruction—to kill him. (Not that she knew how to use it.) And not only was he furious about that, he was wounded. Deeply, deeply wounded.

Caroline laughed. The amusement clutched at her sides.

"What the _hell _is so bloody funny?" Klaus growled.

His fingers dug into her arms. Harder.

"You!" Caroline giggled.

Breaking her arms free, she tackled him once more, this time launching him into the pillows at the head of the bed. "Listen to me, you paranoid psycho!" she bellowed, straddling his hips and lowering her face, "I don't know why Bonnie sent me here, okay? But it's _not _to kill you!" She squeezed his shoulders hard, shaking him. "Do you hear me? I'm not here to kill you!"

Klaus rolled them over, regaining his position on top. Though he still restrained her hands, his grip wasn't as forceful as it had been before. "Then why," he asked through gritted teeth, "were you sent here with the ascendant?"

Caroline rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious. "To keep it away from Kai and Freya, you _fool_."

She added extra emphasis to this last word, delighting at the opportunity to spit his tasteless vocabulary back at him. _Serves him right._

Klaus released her arms slowly as she said this. The truth seemed to slap him like a hand across the face. Placing a hand on either side of her head, he squinted down at her—a reflection of confusion, disbelief, and uncertainty mirrored in his features. His body language, still rigid, suggested that he didn't believe her; but his eyes, wide and thoughtful, peered at her with a conflicted gentleness, revealing how much he wished he could.

He didn't say anything.

"I don't want to kill you, Klaus." Caroline repeated, breaking the silence. As she maneuvered onto her elbows, she cupped his chin in her right hand and forced him to look down at her. Into her eyes. "I've never wanted to kill you."

She blushed as she heard the confession roll off her lips. She blushed worse when she met his probing gaze. _Where did _that _come from?_

At this, Klaus let out a long sigh. He shook his head and let out a small chuckle before retreating into deep thought, considering her words.

"But if you don't get the hell off me now," she added, shoving him backwards with a smile, "I may change my mind."

There was a knock on the door.

Disentangling themselves, they assumed less conspicuous positions on the bed. Klaus collapsed backwards, crossing his feet and cradling his head with intertwined fingers; Caroline rolled to the right, her stomach hanging off the edge, determined to put as much space between her and that snickering hybrid as possible. _The things he found entertaining. Honestly._

"Pardon me, I didn't mean to interrupt," Elijah said, clearing his throat, "Should I come back later?"

"No—you didn't—you didn't interrupt anything," Caroline stammered.

Flustered at Elijah finding them in such a "compromised" position, she glared at Klaus before raising her foot and kicking in him in the ass. "Klaus was just leaving. Weren't you, Klaus?"

Clearly ruminating in her embarrassment, Klaus flashed to the door with a smirk lingering on his lips. "Yes, brother. Let us leave her to freshen up after her long winter's nap," he said, clapping Elijah on the back, "We have important things to discuss."

He flapped the ascendant to illustrate his point, eliciting an arched eyebrow from Elijah. Afterwards, he tucked it into his back pocket for safe keeping.

_I guess I'm not getting _that _back, _Caroline sighed.

Klaus paused in the doorway. "You'll find everything you need in here," he said with his back facing her, "When you're finished, come and join us for a drink downstairs…You look famished."

With that, he disappeared.

Elijah stepped forward.

"I retrieved your phone for you after your arrival," he said, his hand still gripping the doorknob.

"You did?"

Hope beamed within her.

"I'm afraid it didn't survive the impact."

Caroline's face fell, disappointment apparent.

"The screen shattered. I hope you don't mind, but I replaced it for you in town," he said as he arranged the cuffs of his suit, "New phone, same contacts. I'll have it for you downstairs."

Barely able to contain her gratitude, Caroline hopped up and clapped, wanting to kiss this bearer of good news. (Thankfully-at least for Elijah's sake-she repressed this urge.) Her phone! Her friends! Bonnie!

Answers. Finally, finally, she'd have answers!

Crossing closer to him, she stopped in front of the doors that opened onto the balcony and smiled at him, full of appreciation. Elijah was the Original she'd interacted with the least in Mystic Falls. He operated behind a meticulous reserve, which in a way, made him difficult to know. Difficult, but not impossible.

Caroline understood this much: he was the type of man who preferred to keep his emotions pressed tight against his sleeve. Though they were repressed, they were safe. No one could threaten that which they did not know, right? In addition, though Elijah had been involved in many supernatural plots, he'd always erected himself with a stoic respectability that his other siblings lacked. Reason made him approachable, and at times, unexpectedly compassionate.

It's funny—while she had heard Elena boast of his noble heart in the past, Caroline never thought she'd experience it firsthand. Until today.

"That was kind," she said to him delicately, "Thank you."

Elijah smiled curtly and turned to leave. As the door swung closed behind him, he said, "I'm glad to see you awake again, Miss Forbes."

* * *

Klaus hadn't lied. Caroline found almost everything she required in her stunning suite: towels, toiletries, lavender body lotion, wads of cash and credit cards, clothes (all remarkably in her size), and hot water perfect for a cleansing, I-can't-believe-I'm-with-the-Mikaelsons shower. The one and only thing she lacked? Blood.

As she pulled on a turquoise sundress and a pair of white flats, she became perceptible to the heaviness in her limbs. Not only that, but her veins felt like sandpaper—thin and brittle, chafing as they rubbed together. How long had it been since she'd last fed? How long had she been here? Every movement, no matter how small, exacerbated her blazing exhaustion, sending her closer and closer to the brink of collapse. That "drink" Klaus had offered never sounded so good.

But Caroline didn't rush downstairs—partly because her throbbing body wouldn't allow it, and partly because she needed time to process. If Klaus' incorrect assumptions were any indication of what awaited her, she needed to formulate a plan. A smart one.

Wariness pervaded them all right now. She didn't trust them; they didn't trust her. Her life in the hands of that inquisitive bunch of Originals seemed precarious at best.

Notorious for her compulsive cleaning habits, Caroline devised her strategy while tossing her dirty towels in the hamper and making up the fluffy bed. She yanked, jerked, and tucked until those sheets achieved that lineless, glossy perfection she craved. As she did so, she determined to stay strong, to stay focused.

The Mikaelson siblings may be nearly un-killable, but that didn't mean they could bully or intimidate her. Caroline would show them. _I am strong. I am lively. I am resilient. _Then, and only then, would she acquire the tools she needed to not only defeat Kai and Freya, but to find out what happened to her friends.

After arranging her wet hair into a French braid, she felt done. Ready. It was time.

Shrugging her arms into a white cardigan, Caroline made for the door—the courage of a warrior filling her with a vibrant buoyancy.

* * *

As her hand gripped the top of the wide banister, Caroline closed her eyes and exhaled. She felt so drowsy.

"I think they're waiting for you in the sitting room," a voice said behind her.

Turning, Caroline beheld a familiar brunette. Petite and slim with green eyes, she wore a pair of black jeans and a red flannel shirt. She fidgeted with a diamond on the ring finger of her left hand.

"Hayley?" Caroline asked, a mixture of surprise and distaste. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see Elijah," she replied as she bolted down the stairs, avoiding eye contact. "You'll find them through there." She pointed at an arched wooden door to her left. "Could you please tell Elijah I'll be waiting in the kitchen until he's finished?"

Caroline nodded.

"I appreciate it."

With that, Hayley vanished behind the stairs and into the kitchen.

_Well, _that_ was awkward. _

Of all times, of all places, of all people, Hayley was the absolute _last_ person Caroline would've predicted to be frequenting New Orleans. Forget New Orleans! How in the hell was she so "familiar" with the locations of rooms-here-in Mikaelson Manor?

What had happened since they all vacated Mystic Falls? Were she and the Originals somehow…friends? (Not that they had friends exactly.) After she purposely plotted to kill not one, but all 12, of Klaus' hybrids—excluding Tyler? _Really?!_

_Whatever_. She didn't have the time, or the energy, to think about Hayley. Like Scarlett O'Hara would say, "She'd think about it tomorrow."

Right now, she had bigger things to worry about.

Caroline floated through that wooden door and into the sitting room with her usual cheerfulness, though with perhaps a little less energy. At first, she only perceived Klaus. He stood in front of a white marble fireplace, clutching a decanter of scotch in his hands as he poured himself a large drink.

After the events of earlier, she wasn't desirous of being alone with him. At all. She still hadn't forgiven him. Why in the hell would he presume she came here to murder him? After all they'd been through together? The flirtation, the manipulation, the embrace-your-darkness pep talk, the hot hybrid sex…why didn't he know better? Didn't he know her at all? It made no sense.

Just as she turned to flee, however, he spoke.

"Hello, Caroline," he drawled in his British accent, not deigning to turn around, "Take a seat. I'll fetch you a drink."

Yawning, Rebekah popped up from her hidden position on the beige couch. "Pour me a glass of wine, Nik," she said as he moved to the bar, "These family meetings can be so tiresome."

Caroline took a seat in an over-sized brown chair. Crossing her arms, she collapsed backwards onto it and shut her eyes in an effort to stop the incessant spinning.

"Bloody hell," Rebekah quipped, her head draped across her arms, "You smacked the 'beauty' right out of Sleeping Beauty, didn't you? You look _awful!_"

"How about you travel through a witchy rabbit hole and see how pretty _you _look afterwards?"

Rebekah scoffed, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Technically…it's called transcendental turbulence, sunshine. Just to clarify," said a familiar male voice. "It transforms you into molecules and launches you elsewhere. The recovery time is putrid, even for fast-healing vampires. It's why you currently look so vomit green."

A low chuckle rumbled in Klaus' chest.

_Kol._

Wait a minute—this couldn't be happening. Wasn't Kol dead? Gone? Sucked away into oblivion when the Other Side collapsed? They killed him. Caroline distinctly remembered stepping over his charred corpse when it blocked access into Elena's kitchen two years ago. Had she accidentally dozed off? Was this all some elaborate dream? What was happening?

Opening her eyes, Kol—in all his cheeky, mischievous glory—leaned against the edge of the fireplace. He was here. He existed. This was real.

With his brown hair disheveled and his posture casual, he curled his lips into a smirk.

"Then again, I've only been a warlock—alive and practicing—for six months now," he said, arching an eyebrow, "Why would you accept the ramblings of a once-vampire-ghost?"

Caroline looked up at him with droopy, scrutinizing eyes. "Don't any of you people stay dead?" she groaned.

As she said this, Klaus flashed beside her and made a seat of the chair's armrest. He handed her a glass. Champagne. _It was their thing_, she remembered. Apparently so did he.

Taking a sip, Caroline ignored Klaus' gaze and allowed the alcohol to numb her whirring brain. The drink was tinged with blood (his?), but only enough to take the edge off, not to satiate her. Regardless, it still tasted like a half-apology; and for that, and that alone, she savored the subtle sweetness.

"That, Miss Forbes," Elijah said, suddenly appearing, "is precisely what we need to find out about Freya."

For the next fifteen minutes, they interrogated her about everything. They asked about the ascendant, how Bonnie and Damon plucked it from the 1994 prison world to escape back to the present. They asked about Kai, how he slithered back into Mystic Falls with them, undetected, and began siphoning magic from the town's borders, how Caroline uncovered his mysterious plan regarding Freya, how he confronted her and Bonnie at the Salvatore boarding house. They asked about her impromptu arrival, what she remembered and why her friend elected to cast her to New Orleans of all places.

Caroline answered their questions to the best of her knowledge. And though she felt like she was on trial, it felt good to unburden her mind. Even to them.

After all had been explained, Caroline poured herself another glass of champagne (sans blood) at the bar. "To be honest, I have no clue why I'm here," she said with a shrug, taking a swig, "It's not like Kai is connected to New Orleans, right? And Freya…I don't know who that crazy bitch is, let alone _where _she is."

Caroline paced across the floor, deep in thought. Wiping her wet lips with her hand, she continued. "Maybe Bonnie wanted to spell me somewhere far away? And New Orleans was the first place that popped into her head? Although," Caroline laughed, hiccupping, "when I awoke here, Klaus seemed damn pretty convinced that my sole mission was to stab him with the ascendant."

In memory, Caroline rolled her eyes and turned to face her audience.

Silence.

The four siblings sat next to each other on the beige tufted couch—Elijah and Klaus on either arm, Rebekah and Kol in the middle on the cushions. Unmoving, they all stared back at her.

"What am I missing here?" She pointed at them in accusation. "You know something, don't you?"

Elijah sighed, rubbing his hands together in agitation. Rebekah collapsed her face into her hands and moaned. Brooding, Klaus scowled. The only one of them who didn't look perturbed was Kol, who sank back against the couch pillows and whistled the _Jaws_ score under his breath. _Ba-dum. Ba-dum. _

"Kol, must you be so childish?" Elijah scolded.

Amused, Kol shrugged. "It seemed appropriate. Danger. _Jaws._ I like to stick with the classics."

Rebekah nudged him from behind.

"You know what else seems appropriate?" Klaus asked.

"Wh—_umph!_"

Klaus elbowed him in the nose. Blood dripped from his nostrils.

"As always, Niklaus, no sense of humor," Kol said, shaking his head.

Extracting a tissue from the handbag at her feet, Rebekah handed it to Kol and rolled her eyes. "Do you see what I've had to put up with for 1,000 years?"

Ignoring their family squabbling, Caroline tapped her foot. Waiting. "Well?"

"There's a family war brewing, darling, and it's time to pick sides," Kol replied in muffled tones.

With his fingers staunching his bloody nose, he used the cuff of his sleeve to wipe the excess blood from his face instead of the tissue.

_Typical, rebellious, Ko_l, Caroline thought.

Jumping up, he threw an arm around Caroline's shoulders and maneuvered her past the end table at the back of the couch. Grabbing a mini-globe, he tossed it like a basketball between his fingers. "Freya's the shunned Mikaelson sibling nobody talks about. Mummy banished the naughty minx to a prison world with Auntie Dahlia the night before we turned into vampires."

Standing, Elijah smoothed the wrinkles from his suit. "Freya was tempestuous and wild. She wielded magic like a scythe by slicing others down in order to increase her own supremacy. Mother thought she needed a leash—something, somewhere, _someone_ to keep her power in check."

"So, our mother sent her away," Rebekah added, "…to reflect."

"And here we thought _I_ was the biggest sociopath of the family," Klaus remarked with a smile.

Leaning close to Caroline's ear, Kol whispered, "She always was a feisty little witch, that one. Hates family treachery."

"Wait…you mean to tell me that you're _related_ to this Freya chick?"

Kol winked.

"You have another sister?"

"Yes, Caroline. I believe we conveyed that point quite clearly," Rebekah spat, rubbing her fist across her forehead.

Goosebumps prickled Caroline's skin. Another Original? Worse, an Original witch who was thirsty for unnatural power. (And probably vengeful for the neglect of her family.) This was bad. This was really, really bad.

If Freya was anything like her siblings, particularly Klaus, she probably had a knack for manipulation and evasion. She'd probably employ an army of witch minions to do her bidding while she sat behind the chess board waiting for the perfect moment to stab with her queenly blade. She'd slice and slay until she achieved her goal, collateral damage be damned. In other words, she wouldn't be easy to defeat.

Guzzling down the last of her champagne, Caroline threw herself into Kol's empty spot on the couch.

"Six shades of family dysfunction, that's what this is!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands over her eyes. "Dagger them, dessicate them, banish them, kill them. It doesn't matter! Mikaelsons just keep popping out of the ashes like daisies!"

Releasing an exasperated sound, Caroline, who was dizzy and exhausted, collapsed her head against Klaus' thigh. "My head hurts. You people make my head hurt."

Without a saying a word, Klaus petted her head with soft, nimble strokes. Sweet. Comforting. Soothing.

Want of sleep pressed against her eyelids.

_Buzz. Buzz._

"What now?" she grumbled, her eyes still closed.

_Buzz. Buzz._

"Cheer up, sunshine," Kol crooned, patting her head from behind. "It seems you're getting a call…" he paused, catching the phone Elijah tossed to him with one hand, "from… Boyfriend? What the—that's not a name! Who is it?" Kol prodded. "Who's Boyfriend?"

Klaus hardened. Pulling his leg away, he moved to pour himself another drink, this time opting for a larger glass.

"Ick, cutesy cell phone names?" Rebekah gagged, "How cheesy!"

Caroline perked up. Actually, she bounded up—leaping over the back of the sofa like a track hurdler and prying her property from Kol's taunting, little fingers. Her phone! Her friends! Answers! She couldn't believe she was only one button swipe away. Finally!

Before fleeing into the foyer, however, she clamored a perplexed Elijah in a warm embrace. "Thank you! Thank you!" she exclaimed, kissing him on the cheek.

Though surprised by her warmth and perhaps a little stiff in its reciprocation, he smiled.

"And before I forget," she whispered, "Hayley's in the kitchen."

With the words "but who's Boyfriend" echoing behind her, Caroline escaped the Originals to answer her call.

* * *

She wanted privacy. But this was neither her house nor her city. In other words, her options were limited. With the siblings clogging the downstairs, Caroline reasoned that under the circumstances, the best place for a personal phone call was on the balcony outside her glamorous "sleeping" room from before. Quiet and secluded (not to mention beautiful) she could talk freely there. Away from eavesdropping Original ears.

"Just tell me you're okay," Caroline blabbed as she answered, "Please tell me that you're all okay."

"You vanished without so much as a text, a call, or a bloody fire signal for 5 days and you want to know if _we're _okay? We're fine. We thawed. We're good," Enzo said.

"You thawed?"

"Kai immobilized us with a freeze spell while he came after you and Bonnie for the ascendant. Not important."

Enzo made an impatient noise, lowering his voice to a low grumble. "What the bloody hell happened to you?" he asked with an aggressive tone. "Whose ass do I need to kick?"

"No one's. Bonnie sent me to New Orleans."

Caroline drummed her fingers on the railing, dreading what came next. How could she explain?

"Oh, isn't that lovely. A vacation."

Caroline could hear him slurping down some kind of liquor. When he swallowed the last of it, he exhaled. Loudly.

"And you couldn't find, say, two seconds out of your busy day to call and tell me, your favorite accented friend, that you sought refuge with Klaus the Hybrid Hottie (your drunken words) in the wake of a witchpocalypse?"

"No—I couldn't—I—" she stammered.

Enzo tsk-tsked. "I thought we were better friends than that, Blondie," he said. "After your mom died, I thought we swore we'd always be honest..."

"Listen, _Boyfriend_," Caroline said with exaggerated emphasis, "how about you shut up and let me explain."

She still couldn't believe he'd tampered with her phone contacts that Tipsy Thursday. _The sneaky shit. _God only knows what else he'd changed…

"There she is!" he teased. "My vivacious little ball of spunk—how I've missed you!"

Caroline jumped to sit next to a pot of daisies on the railing, laughing. That was the wonderful thing about Enzo: he always knew how to lighten the mood.

She heard him crack his knuckles as if in preparation.

"Talk to me," he said, "This sounds like a _marvelous _story."

And talk to him she did. Caroline explained Bonnie's spontaneous move during their Kai confrontation and how she offered herself up as bait while shooting Caroline away with the ascendant. Alone. Next, she told him of Klaus' you-came-to-kill-me outburst after she awoke days later, dazed and delirious. Lastly, she informed him of the Freya-Originals connection. She made sure to highlight the major complications on that front.

In exchange, Enzo informed her that Bonnie was still alive…somewhere. (Apparently, the Bennett witch appeared to be useful, at least for now. Or so Kai's cryptic video message conveyed.) Unfortunately, her friends had no leads as to her whereabouts.

"Thank God!" she exclaimed_. _

Relief flooded through her. Though it wasn't ideal, she was alive. Bonnie was alive! And no matter what it took, Caroline would find her. Soon. As for Kai…he was a dead man. _Dead, dead, dead. _

"Here's what I still don't understand, Gorgeous," Enzo continued, "Why New Orleans? Why you?"

"Bonnie sending me here is still a freaking mystery," Caroline said.

Pulling a daisy free from its pot, she plucked its petals and watched as they floated like forgotten wishes to the stampcrete patio. "It's not like she knew about Freya. None of us did."

"But you think Freya's nearby? Plotting?"

Caroline shrugged.

"I can't be sure, but I wouldn't be surprised," she said, "That's why I need to stay."

"To figure out a way to stop her?" Enzo asked.

"I can't think of a better place, can you?"

The evening breeze gusted across her skin and made her shiver. With her feet dangling, Caroline kicked the posts of the railing with her shoes in a meditative rhythm. "Her family's here. Her siblings. They know her strengths and weaknesses better than anyone," Caroline argued, "To win, to vanquish her, I need to arm myself with as much information as possible."

Enzo hummed on the other line, processing. "Is that all? Is that the only reason you want to stay?"

A skepticism characterized his tone that Caroline didn't appreciate. What was he suggesting?

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Don't get defensive," Enzo laughed.

She knew a secret part of him delighted in pushing her buttons, but this accusation seemed too harsh. Too pointed.

"I don't think Bonnie sent you there by accident," he continued, "I think she knew exactly what she was doing. And why…"

At this, Caroline launched her feet back onto the ground with a huff, her face blazing. Shame? Outrage? Was it wrong that she couldn't differentiate between the two at the moment? That she couldn't understand the _pump, pump, pump_ of her heart?

Cradling her phone with her chin, she leaned against the railing and peered out at the city for the first time. Taking it all in.

Breathing in slowly, her breath felt fresh…the air, ancient. The lights of the French Quarter hugged the streets in a dim energy. The buildings, though they didn't move, seemed to vibrate with life, whispering secrets of untold histories and boasting of laughter and tears that lurked in shadowed shops along the cobblestone sidewalks. The crowds themselves hummed with voices that enwrapped the city in a halo of animated musicality, a distant song that drifted along the wind. Violins plucked, banjos strummed, and trumpets buzzed. All five senses demanded to be engaged.

Caroline had never felt more awake in a place before. More alive. Her fingers tingled to touch, to plunge into a vivacity so stark and different from home. But she hesitated—checked by fears she couldn't yet rationalize.

"Are you freaking _insane_?!" she bellowed into the phone, holding it in front of her mouth. "You think I wanted to come here? That Bonnie somehow perceived that I secretly, desperately—not just wanted—but _needed_ to come to New Orleans?"

Panting, Caroline paused.

"Yes?" Enzo replied, a question mark hanging on the last syllable.

After releasing an annoyed breath, she replaced the phone against her ear and walked back toward the bedroom.

"No," she said, shaking her head vehemently, "No, no, no, _NO_!"

The bewilderment and exhaustion of the past few days—no—the past few hours—threatened to throw her head-first into hysteria. First, Kai and Freya. Second, Bonnie; her missing friends. Third, the investigative Originals. Fourth, Klaus. He was infuriating! He thought she came to kill him? Ha! And now, unwarranted accusations from Enzo. How much more could one girl take?

Caroline threw herself onto the made bed, her left fist clenched and pulsating at her side as she collapsed against the comforter. Her feet dangled to the floor. "And if that string of _No_'s isn't enough to convince you, then maybe this will be."

She clutched the phone tight to her ear. "This is the absolute last place in the world—no—in the entire _universe_ that I want to be, okay? Do you understand that?"

She laughed, but without humor.

Returning to her normal tone of voice, she added, "I'd rather be anywhere else. Anywhere but here."

Caroline heard someone sigh. And it wasn't Enzo.

"That's the thing about staying in my house, love," Klaus said, "When you don't answer my incessant knocking, I forego propriety and bust down the damn door."

_Crap. _

Squinting her eyes shut, Caroline threw a hand over her face. A pathetic attempt at hiding.

"How much of that did you just hear?" she asked Klaus.

"Enough. I heard enough."

His voice sounded hard. Distant.

_Crap, crap, crap! _She just wanted rest. She just wanted blood. It had been a crap day without enough of either…and now, all she wanted was for this bed to swallow her whole, to remove her from this awkward hell. Immediately.

Caroline could hear Enzo attempting to repress a snicker on the other line. He failed.

"Busted," he muttered, not bothering to conceal his amusement.

"Enzo, I'm going to have to call you back."

With one click, she ended both his call and his uncontrollable laughter.

Jumping up, Caroline spotted a formidable shadow standing in the open doorway. He stood erect with his arms behind his back, his head cocked slightly to the side. Klaus remained still—observing her. And while his eyes lacked that hybrid yellow, the gaze of the monster, they still glared at her with an animalistic ferocity that threatened to tear her to shreds.

Was he hurt or merely offended? The storm brewing in his blue eyes made the answer ambiguous. As if he wasn't already enigmatic enough. _Seriously_.

Stepping over shards of shattered wood and a bronze doorknob, Caroline scoffed. "Congratulations, Hulk," she said, coming to a halt opposite him, "Apparently you forgot that God invented keys."

Klaus shrugged, untroubled. "I didn't think of it at the time."

"Look…" Caroline started, "I'm—"

He held up a hand to silence her.

"Please. Don't apologize."

"But I—"

Wagging a finger at her, Klaus flashed to the bedside table to retrieve a glass before strolling onto the balcony. His nonchalant whistle echoed in the air as he stepped outside into the cloudless night.

Following close behind, Caroline grabbed him by the elbow. The unsteadiness of her grasping movement sent their feet crashing into a pot of daisies by the door. It cracked, spilling dirt and flowers in an avalanche. There, dispersed across the ground, wasted wishes died on top of petals that'd never be plucked.

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, her fist tangled in the fabric of his shirt. She begged for him to listen, to believe her words. "I didn't mean it. Really, I—I didn't. I was just so angry—"

Tears pooled in her eyes. He had been so thoughtful after her mother died, so helpful. Out of everyone she knew, he had been the most persistent. The constant. The forever there. He was the one person who not only recognized her strength, but nurtured it, forever challenging her to embrace what she is, to become who she was always meant to be.

And so, what did she do? How did she repay that kindness? With ugly, untruthful words. Words that came more from a place of fear and uncertainty about her feelings than it did from honesty. What had she done?

"—Caroline, Caroline," Klaus interrupted, a tsk-tsk lingering on his lips.

Gripping her by the shoulders, he bent his head and looked deep into her eyes with an icy callousness.

"You are mistaking me for someone who cares," he whispered, his pupils dilating, "And I _don't._"

Smirking, he fiddled with a loose curl by her right ear, stopping only to trace her jaw bone with his index finger in gentle, teasing strokes. He leaned in close, his lips almost pressed against her cheek.

"I don't care about you…" he said, "...I don't care about anyone." He pulled away. "The only thing I care about," he said, leaping onto the railing, "is this—" Klaus spread his arms wide, pointing outwards. Beyond. "My city. My kingdom."

He paused to look down at her with scorn from atop his royal ledge. "That, sweetheart, is _all _that truly matters to me. Nothing more, nothing less."

Caroline peered up at his ostentatious display with crossed arms. Arrogant and pompous, that's what he was.

Unmoved, she replied, "I don't believe you."

Caroline didn't care what he said, what he yelled…because she knew the truth. He cared. He cared, dammit! And no tantrum—no matter how vile or violent—could remove that tattooed fact from her heart.

In other words: _Let the liar lie!_

Klaus froze at her words. His back muscles flexed, becoming rigid.

Jumping down, a low growl rumbled in his chest as he stalked towards her with defiance radiating off of him in waves. He removed a blood bag from his back pocket, slamming the glass, which now overflowed with blood, into her palm. The action was quick. Firm.

"Drink it," he commanded.

Caroline gaped at him, surprised. Had he just agreed with her? Had he actually waved his white flag in surrender? She accepted the blood like a peace offering, toasting him before swallowing it like a shot.

"Thank you," she said, wiping her hand across her mouth as she finished, "I feel better now."

Klaus sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Replenish yourself, love," he encouraged, "You're of no use to me dead. Or worse, dessicated."

Startled, Caroline coughed. "What?"

"Kai and Freya pose a dangerous threat. To me, to my home. I won't allow that."

He shook his head to illustrate his point.

Together—" he explained, circling her in contemplative steps, "together, we will annihilate them. To do that, to acquire the information I need to preserve peace in my beloved city…I need you strong; I need you alert; I need you alive. Until then, you're _mine_."

A possessive glint flickered in his eyes as he said these words, sending shivers down Caroline's spine. Yet, while fear gripped at her, so did something else: exhilaration.

"After that…I don't care where you go or what you do." Here, he stopped and lifted her chin with his finger. "Because you..." Klaus snarled, drawing her against his chest with shuddering arms, "...you mean nothing." Unsteady, his voice cracked. "_Nothing_."

With that, with one parting look of gravity, Klaus abandoned Caroline to the darkness of the balcony.

Alone now, quietness pervaded her. But his words—they lingered in a fading echo, bruising the muscles of her heart like a whip.

* * *

**_So give me love and all your hate._**

**_Tell me lies in fifty shades—_**

**_Lay me down for a while,_**

**_get lost in the grey._**

-_Fifty Shades_, Boy Epic

* * *

**Additional Note: **

**I enjoyed crafting my little original!Originals "family meeting" in the sitting room. I'm curious to see which of the Mikaelsons Caroline will learn to trust more as the witch hunt for Kai and Freya becomes more convoluted. (And who will trust her.) All bets are off during a war-you never know what "connections" will be made. Also, I know Freya has yet to make an appearance. But she's coming. The magical powerhouses are _both_ coming! **

**Anyways, bring on the reviews, lovely readers!**


	4. Hit Me with Your Best (Tequila) Shot

**Author's Note: **

**Klaroweek indulgence on Tumblr made me a little slower about updating this week. I also hit a hard wall of writer's block and needed to re-configure a few things before I felt confident enough to post. There's been a lot of drama in the previous three chapters, so I ventured for something a little lighter-toned in this one. Maybe? Maybe not?**

**I guess you'll just have to read to find out...**

**Disclaimer: TVD/TO material is not mine. **

* * *

**_I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut_**

**_My weakness is that I care too much_**

**_And our scars remind us that the past is real__  
_**

**_I tear my heart open just to feel_**

-_Scars_, Papa Roach

* * *

Caroline refused to play the role of the pouting princess locked away in a tower by the big, bad beast. Without a door—which Klaus so courteously tattered to scraps—she couldn't mope in privacy anyway. Besides, if Klaus insisted on branding her a (demanded) Mikaelson house guest for an undisclosed amount of time, the least she could do was acquaint herself with this bizarre, bubbling city of New Orleans. No tour guide necessary.

Exiting the house through a door would make her too conspicuous, however. And Caroline didn't want any more questions from the Originals. She'd had enough of those today. She'd have no more of them tonight. No—tonight…tonight she wanted freedom.

And so, similar to Rapunzel (minus the ladder of hair), Caroline bounded from her balcony to the busy sidewalk with an effortless _thud. _Armed with nothing but a wad of cash tucked into a cute clutch, she'd made her escape into the City of Distraction. Alone…and without detection.

She devoted the next two hours to engrossing herself in the vitality of the French Quarter. The music. The art. The culture. Caroline nibbled on beignets, the yeast melting on her tongue in sugary mouthfuls; she visited voodoo shops and dark magic booths, wondering about the truthful mythology behind witch ancestors' trinkets; she danced, she clapped, and she hummed along with the somber notes of that solitary saxophone playing there, just beyond the next corner.

Caroline disappeared into the bustle of the city. Just another pretty vampire face deserted among the crowd—with no desire to be found.

A small, secret part of her whispered that this felt wrong. That this wasn't how it was supposed to be. But did that matter now? No. Caroline ambled through the ancient, animated streets lost in everything except the _nothing_ of his words.

* * *

Off-key singing prompted her to enter the next bar she passed. The sign outside dangled the words _Live Karaoke: 10-12 P.M. _And although Caroline wasn't in the mood to belt out a ballad herself, she figured it'd be entertaining to watch other people try.

Besides, her shit day needed to end. And for that to occur she required two things:

1) Amusement

2) Alcohol.

A karaoke bar would ply her full of both. _Hopefully._

"Three tequila shots, please," she said as she collapsed into an open bar stool.

The bar, though dim and noisy, retained a French flair that added to its rustic charm. A young redheaded couple populated the stage in the back corner; and sharing the microphone, they serenaded the place with a spirited rendition of "Summer Nights" from _Grease_.

Caroline snapped her fingers and waved to alert the bartender of her presence—not to be rude, but to get the young girl's attention. Alcohol was needed. _Pronto_!

The bartender, who was tall with shoulder-length blonde hair, looked to be a few years older than Caroline. Early to mid-twenties probably.

_Thank God, _Caroline thought. _A woman will understand._

Pretty, though in an understated way, the bartender approached Caroline with an appraising look in her green eyes. "Could I see some ID?"

_Crap_.

Cranky, not to mention thirsty, Caroline huffed. She was in no mood for this.

After rummaging through her clutch, she withdrew a one hundred dollar bill and slammed it face down onto the counter, allowing an aggravated hiss to escape her throat as her fangs descended.

"I asked—" Caroline pounded her fist onto the counter, and leaned over it…glaring. "—for three tequila shots. _Please._"

Though the bartender stiffened, she didn't back away. Reaching beneath her, she extracted three shot glasses.

"What is with you vampires and large bills?" she asked. Adding the tequila, she pushed them across the counter with three limes. "Bad day?"

Apparently this chick knew about the supernatural. Stepping closer, Caroline could hear the strumming of her heart; she could smell her sweet caramel blood—human. Yep, this girl was undeniably human.

_Curious._

Conceding, Caroline sat back.

"You have no idea," she mumbled, taking her first shot.

The tequila burned as it passed down her throat, against her tonsils, but it dulled her aching frustration. She relished in the numbing taste. Tonight, Caroline welcomed any chance to forget.

She downed the next two shots. Sucking on a lime, she shrugged and added, "But I guess that's to be expected when you're staying with dysfunctional people."

"Dysfunction is rampant in New Orleans," the bartender said, nodding her head in understanding, "I'm surrounded by it."

Caroline looked around. Drunken laughter, clinking glasses, and bellowed karaoke filled the place.

"Occupational hazard?" she asked.

The bartender smiled, and then leaned forward on her elbows. A friendly openness characterized this gesture, which Caroline found refreshing in this strange place and on this strange day.

"Probably," the girl replied, "but that's what I get for wanting a PhD in psychology."

With her head resting in her palm, Caroline squinted at her. "What's your name?"

"Camille. But please," she said, wiping the counter with a rag, "call me Cami."

A new performer took to the stage as she said this. The melody to Marvin Gaye's "Sexual Healing" reverberated from the speakers.

"I'm Caroline."

"—_ooh baby, I'm hot just like an oven. I need some lovin'—"_

Facing away from the performance area, Caroline couldn't see the man singing, only hear him. His voice, clear and playful, carried a well-balanced pitch that infected the smoky air with harmony for the first time all evening. In other words, the guy could sing.

"—_and baaaaaby, I can't hold it much longer. It's getting stronger and STRONGER—"_

Despite this, Caroline groaned. She hated this song. Not because it was old, but because it was tacky. A desperate ploy to attract female attention.

"Well, Cami," she exhaled, "how about I buy you a drink?"

She extracted another one hundred dollar bill from her clutch and tucked it into the girl's open palm. It's not like the Originals needed it. And really, neither did she.

"With so many dysfunctional people in our lives, we girls need to stick together."

Cami arched an eyebrow in surprise. Or was it suspicion? Then, with her face breaking into an amiable smile, she poured them each two shots of tequila.

Though Caroline didn't know her, she liked Cami. Sure, she was ordinary—being human and all—but she seemed sweet and empathetic. And those traits came in short abundance, no matter what type of world people knew of or inhabited.

"Cheers," Cami said, toasting her.

They clinked glasses.

"Cheers."

Caroline downed both shots in two quick gulps. The alcohol alleviated the neurotic hammering of her thoughts immediately. She could just _be_. She could just _listen_. She could just _enjoy_.

Who cared about tyrannical witches? About bickering Originals? About Klaus' despicable words?

"—_if you don't know the thing you're dealing…oooh, I can tell you darling, it's _sexual _healing_—"

Music from the end of the second verse floated through her ears as the crowd erupted into clapping whoops with every reiteration of the words _sexual healing_. Whoever this guy was, he riveted the audience.

Caroline bobbed her head to the beat. Might as well take part in the merriment, right?

"Speaking of maladjusted people," Cami paused, pointing at someone behind Caroline, "…I think this one wants your attention."

"—_Get up, get up, get up_—" The singer's voice became clearer. Nearer. "—_Let's make love tonight_—"

Before Caroline could turn, before she could react with anything besides a crinkled forehead that asked "what," a hand swiveled her around on her chair to face him. He, the lively performer, gripped a black microphone and serenaded her from beneath a baggy grey hood that covered his eyes, casting his face in shadow. The only feature Caroline could perceive was this: a naughty smirk.

"—_Baaaby, I got sick this mornin', a sea stormin' inside of me_—" He traced circles along the exposed skin of her right shin, his fingertips climbing her knee like a ladder. "—_Baaaby, I think I'm capsizin', the waves are risin' and RISIN'_—"

Up, and up, and up his fingers went…until she promptly smacked his hand away. Today was so _not_ the day to mess with Caroline Forbes!

Springing from her bar stool, she stormed at him with outrage licking her veins. Who did this handsy asshole think he was?

"Hands _off_, American Idol!" she snarled.

Just as she cocked her fist and aimed to clonk him in the face—a broken nose and a trip to the hospital would fix this jerk just fine—the man lowered his hood. Unruly brown hair and an impish grin greeted her.

"—_and when I get that feeling, I want _sexual_ healing_—"

It was Kol.

"—_Sexual healing is good for me. Makes me feel fine..._"

Caroline lowered her fist and re-assumed her seat, muttering the word _rascal _under her breath as he skirted away with practiced evasion.

With one last wink at her, Kol maneuvered back to the stage to finish his song.

"I wouldn't pay him any mind," Cami said, gesturing at a gyrating Kol, "He enjoys rousing the crowd. He's mostly harmless."

At this, Caroline couldn't help but remember his _Boyfriend_ exclamations of earlier. "Trust me," she scoffed, smiling, "He's a regular troublemaker—always and forever."

Jumping up, Caroline didn't see the look of realization pass across Cami's face as she said this.

"Tell the Joker I went to powder my nose, would you?" she asked.

The hearty applause fell silent as the bathroom door swung shut. There was no escaping those Originals, was there? Caroline splashed cold water on her face and released an exasperated grunt. No matter how many miles of distance she placed between them, no matter how meticulous or inconspicuous her dodging, there they were—blocking her in like giant beams of consistency. There _he_ was. Always. Why?

Alcohol swirled her head in a halo of tipsy; and ironically, instead of making her forget, it made her inquisitive. Caroline didn't understand this boomerang effect of gravity. This fateful tug that placed her in the orbit of the Mikaelsons, more specifically, of Klaus, over and over again? Why _did _Bonnie send her here? Where _was_ Bonnie? There must be an answer…

At this, almost as if on cue, the door opened. The redheaded girl who sang "Summer Nights" earlier walked inside.

"Caroline Forbes?"

"Yes?" Caroline asked, startled by the stranger.

"This is for you."

The girl handed her a note. Without waiting for a "thank you" or a dismissal of any kind, she turned and exited the same way she came.

With trembling fingers, Caroline opened the note to reveal a cryptic message:

_ Tell Kol I know how to locate Bonnie. _

_Come to me Friday at 9 P.M._

_No Klaus._

—_D_

Exiting the bathroom, Caroline found Kol poised at a table in the back with his arm draped around the back of a brunette's chair, his lips whispering flirtatious morsels of dialogue into her ear until she giggled.

She marched over and grabbed him by the ear. "Kol! You missed curfew _again_? Mom says you're grounded. Let's go," she said as she yanked him upright, "Now."

"Oy!" he yelled, batting her hands away. "I don't have a—she's just—" he stammered at the girl. Hanging his head with embarrassment, he cleared his throat and said, "I have to go."

Caroline patted him on the back as he left the table.

"Good boy."

As they made their way back to the bar, Kol pouted while Caroline giggled. She savored the amusement. It'd been in short supply since she'd arrived here.

"Was that necessary?" he frowned.

Though he sighed, he seemed more diverted than upset.

"After the day I've had…absolutely," Caroline laughed. She hopped up onto a bar stool, "That was payback for earlier."

She sighed. "Besides, I needed a bit of fun."

Kol smirked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "If fun was what you wanted, darling…all you had to do was ask."

He waved at a bartender, urging him to approach. When the man stopped before them, Kol gripped him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes with dilated pupils, waiting for the compulsion to take root.

"My not-as-perky friend here has had a bad day," he said, "Make us some tasty drinks to cheer her up, mate." He smiled, clapping the guy on the shoulder. "Something…_explosive_," he emphasized with a wink.

While the bartender wrestled with bottles, ice, and ingredients, Caroline scrutinized her bar companion suspiciously.

"Why are you being nice to me? You may not know me, but you hate my friends."

Kol shrugged.

She poked him with her finger. Prodding.

For a second, he remained detached. Aloof. Then, all of a sudden, he cocked his head to the side and fixed her with a look of gravity.

"I've always liked Bonnie, you know," he mused, a weak smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, "She was good company on the Other Side."

Whatever Caroline had expected him to say, it wasn't that.

Did Kol and Bonnie know each other well? If so, how was Caroline insensible to this fact? She scratched her head at the mystery of it all…

True, since her return from the Almost-Dead Bonnie hadn't been exactly elaborative about her time on the Other Side, but she'd just assumed it was because her friend didn't want to re-hash the horror of it all. Caroline had respected that.

But this…this was blatant omission. Bonnie had never mentioned Kol since she'd been back. Not once! Given their complicated past with the Originals, wasn't his presence in her life kind of best-friend-essential information? _Seriously._

Could _he _be the reason Caroline was here?

Kol perked up as the bartender returned with their drinks.

"Besides, I nicknamed you sunshine for a reason," he said, handing her a drink with an umbrella, "Let's restore that smile, shall we?"

Caroline bit her lip in hesitation. Could she trust him? Could she confide in this Original prankster she barely knew?

Detecting her reluctance, he placed the drinks back on the counter and sighed. "Out with it, sweets."

At this point, what did she have to lose? Caroline removed the bathroom note from her clutch and handed it to him.

"Someone gave this to me earlier. I don't know if it's a trick or not—" she gestured at the note "—but I had to say something. For Bonnie." She shrugged. "It's the only clue I've had and I'm desperate. Does this message mean anything to you?"

His eyes crinkled in laughter as he read the words. Kol seemed pleased, so pleased that he raised the paper to his lips and kissed it. Repeatedly.

"Yes," he replied, "yes, I know precisely what it means."

He flicked his eyes up to meet Caroline's and shook his head as if in disbelief.

"It means that Friday—" he took a swig of his whiskey "—we find Bonnie. Friday, we bring our friend home."

Kol slid a fruity drink into Caroline's hand.

"Bottoms up, sunshine," he encouraged, his eyes twinkling, "for tonight we celebrate; tomorrow we conquer."

* * *

Ignoring the fact that Kol had that expression backwards, Caroline did celebrate. Wild, young, and free. The bar became their personal playground for fun.

Surprising though it was, she found him to be charming company—you know, when he wasn't attempting to fondle her in that frisky, only-Kol way. (He found himself with a chair leg in his kidney every time he tried.)

In fact, in a lot of ways, Kol reminded her of Enzo. (And who didn't appreciate familiarity in a new place, okay?) He was such a carefree goofball that Caroline couldn't help but loosen up around him. Kol prompted her to do all the things she knew she probably shouldn't—drink more, think less; feed on a human, misogynist though he was, in the darkness of the back alley; express, don't repress; and laugh so hard she howled at the moon.

Oddly enough, she liked him. For tonight, anyway. Not only did he distract her from her distressed thoughts (*ahem* dead mom and Klaus *ahem*), but he restored her laugh as well as her smile.

Despite the supernatural chaos that abounded, Caroline felt cheerful and alive for the first time in months. She glowed, unaware, in the sunshine of her own perkiness and basked in the fluffiness of her slowly recovering heart, nonsensical to the brooding world around her. Dance, dance, dance! Love, love, love!

She was so full that a dim golden light beamed from her hands like sun rays. It felt warm and deep and sincere.

Entranced, this is why when Klaus first entered, Caroline didn't see him—she perceived him.

Klaus' stare bore through the back of her skull as she and Kol twirled to an energetic, yet dissonant, version of "Pour Some Sugar on Me." Why was she so freaking conscious to his presence all the time? It was annoying.

Worse, his sulky attitude polluted the air as he perched himself at the edge of the bar near Cami and observed. He penetrated Caroline with X-Ray intensity.

_He'd make Superman proud_, she thought.

Swept up in laughter, she ignored him. At least at first.

"Ah-ha!" Kol exclaimed as he spun them to the bar, "I was wondering when Grumpy Klaus would make an appearance."

He offered Klaus Caroline's hand. "Have a dance with my little sunshine here," he proposed with a wink, "If that doesn't perk you up, nothing will."

Klaus peered straight ahead, not looking at her.

"I'm tired."

Kol rolled his eyes. "You're no fun, Nik. No fun at all."

"Aww, well, better get to bed then, Grandpa," Caroline mocked, laughing.

Coming to stand by his shoulder, she drew nimble circles across his back and lowered her head to his left ear. With her head cocked indignantly to one side, she said, "It's obvious there's _nothing_ here for you anyway..."

Klaus pursed his lips as she uttered these words. They both knew what she meant. She'd dealt a harsh blow—purposely cruel.

Rigid, he clenched his fists and turned toward her with an excruciating ambiguity hidden behind his glowering blue-green eyes. He said nothing.

"Hey, there's always Bourbon," Cami said with a shrug, attempting to lighten the mood.

This interference broke their eye contact. Klaus looked away from Caroline again and smiled weakly at Cami.

"True," he replied.

Caroline watched as the bartender's hand ghosted (affectionately?) over Klaus' forearm as she handed him an ample glass of liquor. Was that a touch of hope…or reassurance?

Klaus swallowed it in one swig.

Strong and pungent. That was the effect—not only of the alcohol, but of Caroline's realization at that precise moment. Looking at Cami, the way her eyelashes flickered in flirtatiousness, the way she beamed as her name rolled off his lips in that sexy accent, the way she leaned in closer…breathing in the freshness of his cologne…Caroline understood. Clarity waterfalled over her despite the head-spinning intoxication. And here it was: Klaus was the dysfunctional demon in _both_ of their lives.

The degree of separation between them was nonexistent. It was zero. Fucking _zero_!

The worst part? She couldn't hate Cami. She just couldn't do it. Yes—Caroline Forbes may be many things in this world, but a blind fool would never be one of them.

She saw the allure of the bartender, the attraction Klaus probably felt for her. Much like Caroline, Cami was blonde, sociable, and approachable. More than that, though, she retained an innocence that made her considerate and compassionate without premeditated design. Goodness—the light of goodness shined from within her, too. It beamed. Clear and bright and pure.

The similarities were too marked to be mere coincidence here: Klaus had a type. The complication? Both Caroline and Cami fit the description.

Backing away, still a little stunned at her epiphany, Caroline felt Kol wrap an arm around her shoulder and tug her into his chest.

"Let him mope," Kol said into her hair as they walked away, "He hasn't slept in 5 days. You know, camped out by your bed and all."

Caroline stiffened. Was Klaus seriously that anxious about her awaking to kill him?

He yanked her back towards the bumbling crowd.

"You and I—" he catapulted onto the stage in one leaping bound "—will close out this party with a _bang_."

* * *

It was late at this point. Compulsion and excessive alcohol had stretched karaoke well past 2 A.M., bubbling _Rousseau's_ bar in a wild, tangible energy.

Though enthusiasm still infused her body with adrenaline, Caroline anticipated that inebriation would take over her wits soon in favor of sleep. In other words, it was almost time to bid _adieu _to her enchanting night of New Orleans fun. But not quite.

"What did you have in mind?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

With his eyes crinkled in amusement, Kol crouched down and extended his hand.

"I have the perfect thing, darling," he said as he tugged her next to him, grinning, "The _perfect_ thing."

Kol badgered her for all of two seconds before Caroline agreed to do the one thing she'd vowed she wouldn't do tonight—sing.

What was she singing? Not a duet, that's what. No, no, of course not. Kol explained that in order to end the evening on the remarkable, unforgettable note he desired, Caroline needed to serenade the audience. Alone.

And so, thanks partly to liquid courage and partly to momentary insanity, Caroline found herself rummaging through a list of titles under the stage spotlight while Kol shushed the audience in preparation.

_What to sing, what to sing?_

Pausing in her search, she chanced a glance at the bar only to wish she hadn't. There, huddled close together in a corner, seemingly lost in whispered conversation, Cami held Klaus' right hand. There, separated from everything and everyone, the bartender caressed him with a tender sweetness of expression that Caroline dared not hear. She wouldn't. She couldn't. Wait…why couldn't she?

A microphone switched on. Kol cleared his throat.

Turning away, Caroline's stomach knotted, making her want to vomit. Fire torched her lungs and she couldn't breathe. She couldn't fucking breathe!

What the hell was wrong with her?

"Ladies and gentleman," he crooned, stepping to the middle of the stage, "Before we return _Rousseau's_ to the lovely Camille for the night—" he raised his hand to silence the boisterous _boos_ "—we have a special goodnight treat from my little sunshine—"

_My God. _Caroline's head snapped up. The thought of Klaus _fancying_ Cami made her physically ill. She was…she was _jealous_. Irrevocably, irreversibly, insanely jealous!

Kol stepped aside and ushered her towards him with a wave. "Please welcome…" he paused for emphasis, "…Caroline Forbes."

This announcement seemed to intrigue Klaus, for he abruptly halted his conversation with Cami and maneuvered nearer to the stage. Poised against the wall with a cocky dignity, he smirked up at her.

"I'm new to the city," Caroline said delicately into the microphone, "so I guess you can call this my New Orleans debut."

Looking up, she saw him watching her. A defying mix of curiosity and challenge twinkled at her from his eyes.

_Challenge accepted, Mikaelson. Challenge accepted._

She'd toiled about which song to choose, but now she knew. Meeting his smug, sharp gaze, she knew.

The speakers ticked and thundered as the melody gained traction, engulfing the room in an angsty rock beat. Caroline closed her eyes and allowed the music to vibrate against her skin, to tap within her veins, and to transcend her to a place of feeling…so raw and so deep…that it bruised her from the inside out.

She raised the microphone to her lips and tumbled into the first verse.

"_—Please baby can't you see, my mind's a burnin' hell—_" Her eyes flickered to Klaus, arresting him with an imploring glance so fiery that he caught his breath. "—_I got razors a'rippin' and tearin' and strippin' my heart apart as well_—"

Caroline skipped to the left and making a visor out of her hands, peered out into the crowd. "—_Tonight you told me that you ache for something new_…" she shrugged nonchalantly in Cami's direction "—_and some other woman, is lookin' like something…that might be good for you_—"

Waving her hands in "goodbye" dismissal, she continued.

"—_Go on and hold her until the screaming is go-one. Go on, believe her, when she tells you…nothing's wro-ooong_."

Caroline swayed her hips and snapped her fingers as the crescendo of the chorus continued to build.

"—_But I'm the only one, who'll walk across the fire for you—_"

Riveted, with Kol at the forefront, the audience clapped along.

"—_And_ _I'm the only one, who'll drown in my desire for youuu_—"

Striding to the other side of the stage, Caroline extended her arm and pointed outwards. Bolstering Klaus with the force of her meaning.

"—_It's only fear that makes you run…the demons that you're hiding from_—" A smile lifted the corner of her mouth as she wiggled her fingers at him in tsk-tsk. "—_When all your prom-i-ses are go-one_—"

Bending her head into the microphone, she placed her hand over her heart and gripped the sun-and-moon pendant dangling from her necklace. It plucked her with the courage, to once again, meet Klaus' stormy eyes as she delivered the last line of the chorus.

The world lulled into a trance and excluded everyone but the two of them. A shared moment of profundity—it was a meeting of the hearts, not just the eyes.

"—_I'm the o-o-o-only oneee_."

Caroline's heart bled with every strum of that electric guitar, with every resounding, percussive thud of those drums, with every raspy, harmonious note that carried from her throat and into the air. Her open heart breathed little pieces of her soul into every word she sang. Into every movement she made.

This is why, by the time she neared the end of the second chorus, emotion—jealousy, dejection, passion, fervor—it took over, racing through her in a torrent of must-act-now feelings and radiating the palms of her hands in a gorgeous, shimmering black-and-golden light. It diffused around her like dim sunshine. But more importantly (or should she say oddly?), it was within her—it literally scalded her hands.

Jumping down, still singing, Caroline pushed her way through the crowd in a bounding, bouncing kind of determination.

"—_It's only fear that makes you run…the demons that you're hiding from_—"

Klaus stood with his back against the brick wall in a mesmerized daze as Caroline approached him with provocative yet contemplative steps. Tantalizing fingers ran across his chest and down his arm as she lifted his hand to place it on her shoulder.

"—_When all your promises are go-one_—" With her eyes blazing, brimming with a brutal openness she could no longer control, she leaned into his face with only a microphone poised between their faces. "—_I'm the _o-o-o-only_ oneee_."

After holding the last raspy note, Caroline peered into his eyes—hard—searching for a shred of something, anything, that'd give her an indication of what the hell he was thinking. Feeling.

Klaus' eyes were transfixed on her. He squeezed her shoulder amid the generous applause from the audience.

"That was quite the performance, love," he said, his voice low and calm.

His expression, though steady, was unreadable.

Vexed, Caroline clunked the mic against his chest and watched as it crashed to the floor.

"Who says I was finished?"

Klaus quirked an eyebrow.

Suddenly, she zoomed at him. Caroline pressed him back against the wall like a flayed fish. Forcing him to surrender to the powerful delicacy of her straddled arms. Tonight, right now…she wasn't afraid to take exactly what she what she needed. _Without_ asking.

Before he knew what was happening, and before soberness threatened to crash over her in rational hesitation, Caroline's arms wrapped around his neck and tugged him down…close…tight…against her. Her hands were in his hair, fingertips tangled in the curls at the back of his head. With her body pressed flush against his, eliminating not only space, but oxygen, her lips ravaged his—angrily, savagely, greedily—requesting—no—demanding—in an unspoken desperation, for him to respond.

In this moment, Klaus was hers. Hers alone. Lip-to-lip and heart-to-heart.

The crowd erupted into hoots, hollers, and howls so deafening that the room vibrated with palpable clamor. Nearby, Cami gasped. As for Kol, he snickered, undoubtedly amused by the public spectacle.

Nonsensical to everything and everyone except Klaus, Caroline didn't care. She heard nothing; but she felt it…she felt it all. _Everything_.

Fireworks exploded across her stomach the moment he reciprocated. Tingles prickled her skin, causing goosebumps, as his arms finally encircled her waist and drew her hard against his chest, his lips quivering in a strong yet insistent urgency as they collided against her own.

_Not enough_, they seemed to say. _Never, never enough_!

As Klaus' hands groped her body with the kind of bruising tenderness that elicited a pleasurable moan, his tongue slid into her mouth with a delectable dominance. His plump lips, his hot, salty breath, his slithering snake tongue, they became the irresistible candy of Caroline's heart. A craving impossible to satisfy. Each new touch, each original taste—they made her hypoglycemic. What could she do except tremble her way back to the start?

Klaus' kisses apologized with an enamored passion so potent that Caroline swore she'd swoon at his feet if he didn't stop soon. And unfortunately, he must stop. Now.

Already drunk, not to mention dizzy as hell, she figured that the absolute last thing she needed was to regret a tequila headache _and _a Klaus hangover in the morning. Besides, it had been indignant for her to kiss him like this—drunk and wounded—it wasn't fair. Not that she particularly cared right now. But tomorrow…tomorrow she would care.

Therefore, after counting to three (might as well savor a few extra seconds, right?), she pulled away.

Klaus staggered backwards, breathless. He looked mystified, perhaps a little deranged. Her kisses had rendered him speechless—at least momentarily.

Caroline, who recovered faster, smirked at him with a triumphant sparkle in her blue eyes.

"Now, sealed with a goodnight kiss," she said, wiping at her mouth with her thumb, "my performance is complete."

Whistles and applause tore through the crowd in a contagious fury of delight. She bowed.

Stirring somewhere behind her, Kol plucked the microphone from the ground and addressed the audience.

"And _that_, ladies and gentlemen," he chuckled, "is precisely how Sunshiny Caroline ends a spectacular night with a _bang, bang, BANG_!"

With that, after blowing Klaus one last parting kiss, Caroline vanished into the night.

And she never looked back. There was no need; for she already knew—a hybrid shadow, blond and brooding, followed close behind her along the streets of New Orleans. Caring.

* * *

**Additional Note: **

**Remember how I mentioned writer's block? Yeah...so, crafting not one, but _two_ separate karaoke scenes in this chapter proved to be a _lot_ more challenging than I'd originally anticipated. (Really, what was I thinking?) I did my best to convey the instrumentation/musicality of each of the songs, but alas, it's difficult!**

**Also, I know a lot of people don't like Camille. (I'm pretty apathetic to her on the show myself). That being said, her character actually has a lot of potential for development and I enjoy attempting to make characters like that intriguing. **

**Anyways, thanks for reading! Leave a review and let me know what you think. :)**


	5. Color Me Clueless

**Author's Note: **

**It's been a while. _*shuffles guiltily*_ Life hasn't been kind to my writing endeavors lately, but I finally generated enough content to post. **

**Read away! :)**

* * *

Apparently the Originals didn't believe in the modern convenience of an alarm clock.

_Of course not_.

They seemed to prefer the old, but always effective, nudge-and-shake—a not-so-subtle demand that Caroline wake her ass up. Now. So much for southern hospitality, right?

She groaned from beneath the silky sheets.

"Leave me alone."

In response, someone tore open the balcony curtains. Bright yellow sunshine streamed across her face. The light, harsh and dazzling, stung like bees at her closed eyes.

Ordinarily, she'd be the type to bound out of bed shortly after the sun, determined not to waste the day with sleeping, already checking a dozen things off her to-do list before the clock struck 10. But not today. Not this morning.

_Nope_.

Tequila was the undeniable culprit here. It had painted 8 A.M. in a disagreeable light—you know, the kind that made her wish she was blind every time she attempted to open her eyes. Plus, until that obnoxious spinning subsided, Caroline infinitely preferred the darkness of sleep…and this bed…to the beautiful morning sunshine.

Caroline barricaded her head underneath a pillow at the foot of the bed in objection. (Apparently she'd slept upside down last night?)

"Aren't I entitled to some extra beauty sleep?" she complained, almost whining, "Please?"

When the room remained silent and no voice answered her, she snuggled further beneath the covers and sighed. It seemed that she had been offered a reprieve._ Thank goodness_.

Just at that precise moment, however, when she almost had surrendered to the inviting warmth of sleep again, Caroline heard something unexpected: music. A Faith Hill song, actually.

It blasted from speakers hidden somewhere in her room. Booming in such a thunderous cadence that she wanted to scratch her ears off. Or better yet, be deaf.

"—_It's centrifugal motion. It's perpetual bli-iss. It's that pivotal mo-ment—_"

The unanticipated loudness jolted a surprised Caroline from the bed to the floor with a _thud_. Tangled and twisted beneath blankets, she struggled to free herself and accost her awakener, which caused her to hop about like a blind bunny.

"—_It's, ah, subliminal_—"

Covered in blankets or not, Caroline didn't need her eyes to know which Mikaelson was behind such an ingenious, early morning prank. The song choice was proof enough of that. Not that she needed any reminders of last night…She remembered just _fine_, thank you very much!

"Is Elijah the only one of you who bothers to knock?" she grumbled.

"—_This kiss, this KISS_—" added in a whisper "—(_it's criminal_)—"

"Seriously, Kol, I get it—" she shouted over the lyrics. Covers flew over her shoulders, exposing her bed-head and mascara-bleeding raccoon eyes. "—You're funny…hilarious…_hysterical_…" she paused to swoosh matted blonde curls off her face and glare at him, "Now knock it off before I—"

The blankets crashed against her ankles. Caroline gasped when she saw the man leaning against one of the bed posts. "—kill you."

Arms crossed, Enzo grinned and said in his familiar accent, "You'd be killing the wrong rascal, Gorgeous."

With an exaggerated flick of his thumb, he paused the music.

"Steady yourself, precious, because your eyes are not deceiving you," he started, stepping into the middle of the room. "Enzo the Valiant has _arrived_!"

At this, he inclined his head and pressed his hand against his heart.

"At your service," he added with a wink.

Kol, laughing near the balcony doors, strode across the room to retrieve the musical device (probably an I-pod) that Enzo held.

"I told you she'd think it was me, mate," he said.

"Don't worry," Enzo replied, handing it over, "she'll adjust to having more than one joking man in her New Orleans life."

"Eventually…yes."

As he headed for the exit (still door-less), Kol clapped Enzo on the shoulder. "But until then, I'm going to make myself scarce." He cupped his hand and pretended to whisper. "My hangover and I prefer strong Colombian coffee before Caroline kills us."

"Oh, I'm going to kill you, all right," she warned his retreating figure, her foot tapping in measured annoyance.

Without turning around, Kol offered her a thumbs-up. His voice echoed as he passed into the hallway.

"I'll be in the kitchen, sunshine."

* * *

With Kol gone, Caroline could focus on Enzo exclusively. Her vampire-heightened-hangover demanded that she remain seated to do it, however. At least for now. _Damn that lethal tequila._

She wrapped herself in a loose sheet and sat on the edge of the bed, patting the vacant space next to her.

"Did you drive all night?"

Enzo nodded and sat down.

"I left ten minutes after you hung up on me."

Caroline yawned.

"You must be exhausted."

"More pissed, really," he joked. He rubbed his hand across the dark stubble on his chin. "I'm not accustomed to blonde babes dodging my calls, after all."

"You made good time," she stated matter-of-factly, "but God only knows how many traffic laws you violated to get here so fast..."

Enzo waved in a "pfft" manner.

"My 3-cop snack made it easy, ironically. I faced no speed obstacles after that."

He snickered as Caroline, who was aghast and horrified at the thought, jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

"But surely," he said, finally abandoning his jesting sarcasm, "you didn't think we'd leave you here friendless, did you?"

Enzo stole a side-glance at her as he said this. She shrugged uncomfortably, but remained silent, choosing to stare at her chipped nail polish instead.

He lifted her chin with his index finger.

"Listen here," he said, forcing her blue eyes to meet his brown ones, "I would never leave you here alone to deal with the Big Bad Wolf _and_ the witchpocalypse. Understand?"

Caroline nodded and rubbed at her raccoon eyes.

"Good."

Here, he draped an arm around her neck and pulled her into him roughly, placing a kiss, sweet and chaste, on her right temple.

Meant as a reassuring gesture of sincere friendship, it touched Caroline's heart. Genuinely. She nestled into his shoulder and sighed.

"Thanks Boyfriend," she said.

"Besides," Enzo added, whispering into her hair, "Did you honestly think I'd dare to miss out on all the fun?"

This comment elicited contagious laughter to spread between them, displacing them in an amused moment shared only by them two. This is why, when a knock sounded on the door frame in the hallway, Caroline didn't notice the person who stepped into the room. That is, until he spoke her name.

"Ah, Caroline," Klaus drawled.

At the sound of his voice, she blushed (for no valid reason), then jerked out of Enzo's embrace and flashed to the dresser against the opposite wall, miserably attempting to tidy her disheveled appearance in the mirror. Not that it mattered—her hair was a blonde nest of knots.

"You're already awake," Klaus continued, un-phased, "Lovely."

Caroline groaned at her reflection; Enzo chuckled.

"I was reluctant to disturb you so early given last night's…" –he cleared his throat here, repressing a smirk—"…_events_, but it seems someone here has saved me the trouble."

Amusement evaporated from Klaus' face as he turned to look at Enzo. Klaus' posture became rigid as he appraised him with wide eyes.

"My pleasure, Klausy," Enzo replied, winking.

Standing with a clap, Enzo crossed the room and threw an arm around the stiff, scowling hybrid.

"I just thought it important that our girl be made aware of her _Boyfriend's_ arrival."

Caroline bit her lip at this, cringing at the out-of-context connotation. Would Klaus understand that Enzo was just a friend?

"It's essential to have true, loyal friends in times like this. Wouldn't you agree—" Enzo asked with a pointed emphasis. He smacked Klaus hard on the back, "—_mate_?"

That was it. The last straw. Caroline watched as fury earthquaked across Klaus' nerves, shooting him across the spectrum from refined to savage. In a blink, his fingers gripped Enzo by the throat, dangling him like a deer head against the adjacent wall.

And here she thought the nickname "Klausy" would be more offensive than "mate."

"I see time has done little to correct your insolence, Lorenzo," Klaus snarled.

"The s—same—" Enzo gurgled, gasping for oxygen, "The same can be said about your—" he coughed "—bloody temper."

Sensing the tension—hell—the freaking _danger_, Caroline interfered the only way she knew how: by tackling Klaus to the ground.

(And no, he didn't see it coming.)

"Let's be adults, goddammit!" she yelled as their bodies collided.

Lying there on the floor, they became an entangled mass of limbs, fangs, sheets, and anger. She wrestled him to acquire the on-top position by sprawling her long legs across his torso and clutching him in a bear-hug around the neck. He could barely breathe, let alone move.

"Says the girl who just attacked me like I was a fucking rugby ball!" Klaus deadpanned, still flat on his back.

Observing this, Enzo laughed. Heartily.

Caroline hissed, pressing Klaus' chest deeper into the wood floor with her knees.

"Could you please refrain—" she asked, her fingers resting against his shoulder blades, "—from attempting to murder every _single_ person who unexpectedly appears in this room?" She smacked him in the back of the head like a naughty schoolboy. "Especially friends who are here to _help_ us?"

Enzo rubbed at his throat. Though the finger impressions had faded, they still were visible.

"Klausy doesn't bother me, Gorgeous." He waved his hand disinterestedly. "He's just sore about how we last parted…and _you_."

Caroline squinted back and forth between them.

"You two know each other?"

Klaus sighed; Enzo waggled an eyebrow. Exasperated, she threw her hands in the air.

"Of course you do!" she exclaimed, rolling off Klaus' back. "All you assholes know each other!"

What an omission from Enzo! Why must she be the last person to find out _everything_ in New Orleans? _Seriously. _Though immature, she crossed her arms and embraced the full force of her pout.

"Enough!"

Releasing a growl, Klaus flashed them upright, his fingers clenched in the fabric at Caroline's waist. His lips trembled with a repressed something. Jealousy? Resentment? Longing? Would she ever know?

"We don't have time for this now," he said, rubbing a hand over his eyes and peering at Enzo. "We're expected at _Rousseau's _by 9."

"For what?" Caroline asked.

"Council meeting."

Caroline fixed him with a skeptical look. Klaus and diplomacy weren't exactly synonymous, after all…

"It's time the rest of New Orleans learned of this immortal witch problem," he said.

Stepping closer, he fixed her with a steady gaze. "And to do that…" he paused, searching her eyes, "I need you."

Caroline's heart quickened at the tender delivery of his last three words. Her throat dry, she couldn't speak.

Unfortunately, Enzo could.

"If you could just seal that last line with another steamy kiss—" he puckered his lips in mockery "—it would be _pure_ perfection!"

_Kol and his big mouth!_

Blushing, Caroline shuffled out of Klaus' grasp to peer indignantly at Enzo who had propped himself on a footstool nearby.

"Say another word, Enzo, and I'll happily let Klaus tear out your tongue."

* * *

Thanks to a stinger left on the night stand that removed the remaining "sting" of her hangover—courtesy of a (considerate?) Klaus—Caroline showered and sobered in a matter of twenty minutes. Unfortunately, there was no such remedy for awkwardness. And awkward was precisely how Caroline felt.

It wasn't just because Klaus and Enzo flanked her on either side as they made their way to _Rousseau's _either, (that didn't help) but because she didn't know where she stood…with anyone. Stefan left a voicemail earlier saying her friends were relieved she was safe in New Orleans (more or less, anyway); but that they were busy chasing Kai leads. They'd _check-in_ later.

As for Enzo, he'd lied! He'd known Klaus all along, but said nothing. Amid Damon's snarking about her and Klaus sitting-in-a-tree for the past year-and-a-half, too! Granted, it was a lie of omission…but it was a big one. In Caroline's mind, an omission that deliberate meant two things: 1) He was hiding something—something big, something bad. 2) He didn't trust her enough to tell her about it.

The latter stung her a bit. Hadn't she proven herself trustworthy? Had that friendship oath after her mother died meant nothing? Had the "eternal honesty" they'd vowed become a one-sided promise?

And then there was Klaus. Foremost in her thoughts…again. Caroline couldn't help but laugh at the irony of him—the eternal hybrid who refused to occupy anything less than an eternal place in the back of her mind.

_Typical_, she thought, shaking her head.

Though he sometimes waited in the periphery, Klaus remained in her thoughts. Always. The unsettling part? Not only was he a constant voice in her mind, but a persistent whisper in her heart. And that whisper, it became harder and harder to ignore with each passing day. The biggest problem, at least for Caroline, was this: the man was a freaking puzzle! His enigmatic behavior often generated more questions than answers. What did he want? How did he feel? Why did his kisses say one thing and his words another? The relentless inquiry was _beyond_ infuriating. (Not to mention exhausting.)

She'd waited for him to breach the subject of their drunken kiss again, but with Enzo around, he seemed disinclined. The closest he ventured occurred while they waited for their order at a bakery across from _Rousseau's. _

The meeting didn't start for another twenty minutes and Caroline wanted breakfast. Besides, nothing smelled quite as delicious in the morning as fresh yeast. Dragging the protesting hybrid by the hand, therefore, she approached the counter and placed her order.

"150 chocolate-covered croissants, please."

"Bloody hell, Caroline," Klaus complained, "you can't possibly be that hungry."

She rolled her eyes at his reaction.

"They're for the Council members, genius."

He laughed.

"That's absurd!"

"No—" Caroline fixed him with a look "—it's _nice_." She strummed her fingers on the countertop. "I know you're not _entirely_ unfamiliar with the concept."

Diverted, his lips twitched.

"I don't get much practice, I'm afraid."

They waited for ten minutes. Klaus proposed that they incite some kind of hurry-the-hell-up incentive, but Caroline blocked his path to the staff. (Luckily for them.) Propped on a red deco stool, she hummed along with the radio until their number was called.

"In case I forgot to mention it," he said as they left, four overflowing bags-in-hand, "you have a lovely singing voice."

That was it. Klaus alluded to nothing else that occurred last night. Not the _you mean nothing_ speech on the balcony, not the Cami-Enzo factors, not the tequila-fueled lip-lock. Nothing. If what he'd said was true, then why did he kiss her back?

Caroline didn't know what to think. And feeling clueless about a man…that freaking _sucked_.

* * *

**Additional Note: **

**Another fluffy chapter, I know. I'd originally intended for this chapter to (re)-introduce the antagonists, Kai and Freya, but I'm saving that for chapter 6. It works better for the story's progression. And since I already have it partly written, I absolutely _promise_ that they'll appear next chapter. _*crosses heart in writer's honor*_**

**Also, Carenzo and Koroline are both brOTPs of mine, so you'll definitely see some interplay between them in this fic. Thoughts? ****Reviews would be lovely!**

**Thanks for reading.**


	6. Sitting, Waiting Nightmare

**Author's Note: ****In order to avoid confusion, I'm going to provide a general timeline for the events of the story so far: **

**_Liz's death/funeral_\- Early March (1st or 2nd week)**

**_Kai face-off at the Salvatore boarding house_\- April 15th**

**_Caroline arrives in NOLA (with ascendant)_\- April 15th**

**_Caroline awakes in NOLA_\- April 20th; she had been asleep/unconscious for 5 days**

**Side note: Hayley is still a werewolf, not a hybrid. **

**Thank you, lovely readers, for your continuing interest and support. I hope you enjoy this. :)**

* * *

_Rousseau's _felt different this morning. Softer. Calmer. Quieter. But more than anything, it felt tense. Perhaps Caroline only felt this way because the place was no longer clouded in cigarette-hazed karaoke and alcohol; or perhaps because as she looked around, she found it populated with apprehensive, unfamiliar faces that seemed unlikely to greet her with a _Welcome to Louisiana_ any time soon.

Besides Enzo, Cami, Hayley, and the Originals, Caroline didn't recognize anyone. Twenty-five unknown people (other supernaturals of the city?) observed her in silence as she promenaded to the bar counter behind Klaus, seemingly cheerful and unaffected. (Cheerful she might have been, but unaffected? _Hell _no. Not with all those eyes watching her!)

Rebekah accosted them as soon as they'd entered.

"It took you long enough," she complained.

Grumbling, Klaus swiveled a paper bag onto his right shoulder and almost smacked Rebekah in the face. Enzo, who carried the remaining two, followed in his wake—with a much less disagreeable demeanor.

"Place them on the bar counter, please," Caroline instructed from behind.

Ignoring the watchful crowd, she busied herself with arranging the bakery items. She wanted to make them more presentable and accessible, that sort of thing.

"What the bloody hell is all this?" Rebekah asked with a sneer, flicking one of the bags with her fingers, "Gluttonous penance for your drunken sins?"

Caroline sighed. Did _everyone_ know about her impulsive Klaus-kiss last night?

"Easy there, Beks," Enzo interceded.

He poised himself on a stool between the two blondes and extracted a warm croissant, nibbling on the edges and not bothering to swallow before he continued.

"If I recall, you've never repented for any of the romantic indiscretions _you've_ had over the centuries." He licked his bottom lip. "Have you?"

Rebekah gaped, appalled, and then squinted at Enzo with revulsion.

"Caroline insisted on breakfast," Klaus said blandly. With an exaggerated swoop of the hand, he addressed the rest of the room, "For everyone."

The reaction? Nothing but blinking eyes.

To them, Klaus was probably nothing but daunting and menacing. And somehow, Caroline knew he preferred to keep it that way. She, however, did not.

Cami approached then, carrying with her a few platters and napkins that she'd retrieved from the storage room. The smell of brewing coffee wafted from a quaint nook, which featured a Klimt painting called "the Kiss" above it, on the opposite side of the room.

"I think it was thoughtful." She inclined her head at Caroline and smiled. The expression was warm. Without any perceptible resentment.

_Lucky coincidence or actual intention?_ Caroline wondered.

"Especially because I'm _starving_ and these smell delicious," Cami said, pulling her in for a grateful hug. "Thank you."

Caroline raised her eyebrows in surprise as she hugged her back. _Intention. _

The embrace felt nice, like it came from an old friend. Ironically, it was precisely what she needed at that moment: reassurance. A loving reminder that she could draw courage from these strange, hostile faces around her and learn about the politics of the city. Find a way to participate. (How else would they defeat Kai and Freya?)

"You are the angel of growling stomachs everywhere, darling," Kol announced, smacking her ass as he passed by, chewing. "Thank—" his mouth was full "—you."

Caroline plopped a croissant onto a napkin. The chocolate melted, hot and gooey, against her fingers. Turning around, she shrugged in her unconcerned, bubbly way and smiled at her curious onlookers.

"I don't know about the rest of you—" she paused to take a bite "—but I can't deal with Klaus' be-loyal-or-else antics on an empty stomach." She rolled her eyes at him with inflated emphasis. "And I'm a _morning_ person."

With this silly but simple statement, the atmosphere of the room changed. Silence faded. In a matter of minutes, the tense quiet exchanged places with the popping kernels of whispered chatter and laughter. Before long, both the bar counter, and Caroline, were surrounded by some of the supernatural faces of the city.

Elijah approached the abandoned table where Klaus perched alone, watching. Patting at his unsullied lips with a napkin, he said, "Miss Forbes acts with tact not befitting of her young age."

"Yes," Klaus agreed.

"I'm impressed," he admitted plainly.

"Is that so?"

"_You_, brother,—" he tugged at the cuffs of his sleeves, smoothing the lines of his black fitted jacket as he moved away "—could learn a lot from a woman like that."

"Yes," Klaus murmured, half to himself, "I suppose I could."

* * *

**_Friday, April 26__th__ 9:02 P.M.:_**

A church. The holy place for people, pews, and prayers. At least it was—it used to be.

As Caroline stood outside the gorgeous, abandoned basilica, she wondered what a church became after death swallowed up all the people who passed in and out of its pews every Sunday, after holy water evaporated all of their hopeful prayers and left nothing but a haunting echo, a distant flicker of existence. Lost from life, taken by death. Gone, gone, gone.

Who would remember them—these once-living faces—if the chapel refused to chime in remembrance? Who?

Although the strength of sunshine pressed hard and vibrant against Caroline's shoulders, the teetering cross above her head burdened her with a loneliness too long ignored. Dead. Her parents were dead.

Why them? Why now? How could they leave her alone with an undead, eternal heart?

She wanted to avoid the pain, to flip the switch on that heart that throbbed and throbbed and throbbed with loss. But she couldn't do it; she wouldn't. Every day Caroline's soul hummed and purred in memory, determined never to forget. Every day. After all, who would remember Liz and Bill Forbes if she didn't? Who?

With her parents' loss, with their deaths, her heart became an orphan. Tainted and blemished, of course, but also starved. Ravenous. Caroline's heart was ravenous for love. She wanted it; she needed it desperately—but she deflected that impulse to attain it. What if no one on this planet remained to feed her starved heart, to stuff it full to capacity? What if she never _was_ the one?

_What if, what if, what if_…?

* * *

**_5 days ago, Rousseau's: _**

The meeting delayed, partly because of Caroline's impromptu breakfast and partly because some guy named Marcel hadn't yet arrived. A small group of vampires, werewolves, and coven members congregated near the karaoke stage from last night with Kol and Cami at the helm. Caroline, sitting with her feet draped across Enzo's knees, inserted herself into the group and made excellent use of her multi-tasking brain.

_Who says you can't sip coffee, collect information, and make friends, okay?_

From the information she'd pried from Kol as they waited—attention deficit though he was—Caroline gained a better understanding of how New Orleans functioned. Apparently, each section of the community was "supervised" by Council leaders. The absent Marcel shouldered responsibility of the vampires with Elijah and Rebekah; Jackon and Hayley, as alphas, regulated the werewolves; Kol and a teenaged witch named Davina managed the covens; and Cami, the well-informed bartender, preserved safety and secrecy among the humans.

The Council, it seemed, was nothing more than a supernatural hierarchy designed to keep peace. Or in this case…to try_. _

"It's _supposed_ to be an organized way to prevent supernatural chaos," Davina explained with a flippant hand gesture. "All the leaders supervise something."

Judging by the young witch's tone, however, Caroline gauged that peace and harmony weren't exactly common in the city. Particularly not among the supernatural population.

"What does Klaus supervise, then?" Caroline asked. Her lips, which twitched into a smile, rested against the edge of her coffee mug. "His hybrid ego?"

Hayley approached. Straddling a chair, she positioned herself to the right of Caroline and rolled her eyes.

"Fat chance," she sneered.

Though rude—and obvious as hell—Caroline sized the werewolf-girl up. A few years and hundreds of miles did little to erase the memory of a snapped neck in the bathroom of the Mystic Grill. She disliked Hayley Marshall in Mystic Falls; she still did in New Orleans.

Klaus swooped in before she responded spitefully.

"I'm King, sweetheart—" he leaned over the croissant platter next to Caroline, snatching one "—I don't supervise, I _dictate_."

Hearing this, Caroline discarded her coffee mug on the lofted stage and blocked his access to the delectable treats, scrutinizing him with her hands on her hips.

"Historically speaking," she said, "tyranny tends to result in beheading." She poked him in the chest with her finger and shrugged indifferently. "Just so you know."

"No offense, mate," Enzo quipped, cocking his head to the side, "but your head wouldn't look so pretty on a spike."

Kol dragged a chair across the floor and plopped down to the right of Klaus, rocking backwards to steady himself on two legs.

"It's the scowl, I think," he added. Scratching his chin, Kol considered his older brother for a long moment and then continued. "It makes your face too ugly for wall mounting. It'd scare too many innocent children."

Laughter spread warily among the collected Council members as they gauged Klaus' reaction—except for Enzo, Caroline, and Rebekah who howled.

At this juncture, Elijah excused himself. He disappeared out the street exit door with his phone poised against his ear. To phone Marcel. Again.

(Escaping the immaturity was likely an added bonus, Caroline thought.)

Klaus crossed his arms, lifted an eyebrow and said, "Yes, I'm sure it would."

Sauntering behind his brother with amusement flickering across his lips, he corrected Kol's chair into four-legged balance with a quick jerk. It sent the snickering warlock sliding across the peanut-coated floor like a baserunner stealing second.

Rebekah threw sweetener packets at Kol's prone form to cushion his fall—after the fact.

"Which is why it's perfect that I cannot be killed," Klaus said with a self-assured sigh.

"Ah, yes, how could we _possibly _forget?" Rebekah drawled. "You're Niklaus Mikaelson, indestructible king of New Orleans."

She saluted him in mockery and then rolled her eyes dramatically. Annoyed.

Klaus' lips trembled, his posture becoming more erect.

While Caroline recognized this gesture as preparation for a sarcastic rebuttal, Cami must have perceived a violent threat for she restrained him by the elbow and muttered _Don't _through clenched teeth. (As if such a passive maneuver would stop him. Ha!) Cami may want a PhD in psychology, but there were certain aspects of Klaus' psyche that only Caroline seemed to understand. And though it wasn't funny, she couldn't help but be a little entertained at Cami's attempt to "contain" him.

He shirked out of the bartender's grasp without trouble and sped to the nook across the room. As he poured himself a steaming glass of black coffee, he replied, "Indestructible king of the universe, preferably." He flashed back to the stage and gestured at Rebekah. "Not to nit-pick or anything."

A few stragglers in hats followed Klaus as he made his way back to the little supernatural group, filing into open seats and tables. They were probably bored waiting for Marcel—and for this stupid meeting to begin.

Kol, who now sat beneath Caroline's dangling legs on the floor, nudged Enzo's foot and nodded up at him, whispering something unintelligible.

At this, Enzo catapulted from his seat and threw himself onto his knees. At Klaus' feet.

Rebekah snapped her fingers at Caroline in explain-yourself fashion as she swallowed a large swig of her hot drink.

"What's that boyfriend imbecile of yours doing?" she spat at last.

Caroline quirked her eyebrow at the accusation—because she hadn't a damn clue!

Standing next to Hayley, Davina twiddled a ring on her index finger. She tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear and said, "I think he's—" she pursed her lips to repress a laugh, though she wasn't entirely successful "—_bowing_."

Caroline looked down at her friend…and sure enough, he was. Enzo rested on bent knees with his arms extended and his forehead pressed into the floor.

Chuckling loudly, Kol smacked his knee and exclaimed, "Fucking brilliant!"

"Of course I'm bowing you bloody ingrates," he barked. Enzo's voice echoed in muffled tones against the floor. "I pay my respects to the invincible king of the universe. What do you think I am—" he paused "—_stupid_?"

The room filled with tense laughter (minus Kol, who was forever unbothered) as Klaus glowered down at the smart-assed Brit. With his pupils dilated and red with rage, Klaus examined Enzo as if he was the most disgusting of insects—the kind that deserved to be crunched and squashed into nothing more than guts. Tiny bug guts. Or better yet, bug _ash_.

Hayley watched from the chair she straddled. With her chin nestled against the back of her hand, she spoke to the man on the ground.

"You sure look stupid to me," she said.

Jumping up, Caroline deposited a napkin on the werewolf's lap and patted her thigh.

"Here," she said. "Why don't you use that to wipe the _bitch_ off your face?"

Pissed and offended, Hayley narrowed her eyes. In response, Caroline flashed her a haughty smile before maneuvering behind Enzo.

"Claws are out!" Kol exclaimed, taunting them with faux-angry hisses.

Sure, Enzo was being an idiot—but he was Caroline's idiot. And she was protective of her friends, okay? Always. (Not that it stopped her from stomping hard on said idiot's ass five seconds later.)

He grumbled in pain.

"What? Too much?" Enzo asked, grunting out a laugh.

"Blithering moron never shuts up," Rebekah mumbled under her breath, "He never did."

Rolling onto his heels, he peered up at a towering Klaus whose features radiated with wolfish aggression.

"Isn't that what Klaus the Invincible demands?" Enzo prodded bitterly. A humorless laugh clogged his throat as he spoke, making his voice raspy yet clear. "_Compelled _obedience? _Demanded_ loyalty?"

Not only did Caroline observe the collective nods of agreement while her friend spoke, but she watched Klaus' hands curl into tight fists. He didn't need to speak. His rigid intensity screamed one word and one word alone: kill.

"No offense, Klausy—" Enzo started.

As the two men engaged in an epic glare-down, Caroline stepped between them. Though she remained ignorant about their shared history, she remembered the strangled-and-dangled Enzo of the morning. With fresh clarity. And she wasn't aiming for a catastrophic repeat, thank you very much.

"—I'm sorry to break it to you, Klaus," she interrupted with a frivolous wave, "but you're not invincible _or _indestructible."

A hush fell over the room. While Cami held her breath, Enzo tapped his chin smugly and retreated between Kol and Rebekah to watch. (Spunky Caroline was his favorite, after all.)

"No one is." Caroline licked her lips and pointed at the hybrid. "You have vulnerabilities just like the rest of us," she said.

Aghast eyes blinked at the sound of Caroline's audacity. _Who was this girl?_ they seemed to ask. _Was she insane_? _Did she want to die?_

"It's not like we haven't all tried to immobilize you…" Davina muttered with strained courage.

"Peppy Forbes has a point, Nik," Rebekah added unwillingly.

At this, Klaus scratched his chin in contemplation before taking two purposeful steps forward and enclosing the distance between him and Caroline. His blue eyes pierced hers. He bent closer, faces only inches apart.

"Since you're so _shrewd_—" he gritted his teeth, his jaw tight "—what would you suggest I do then?"

Was Klaus asking for advice? Was he joking? Was this real life?

Crossing her arms, Caroline lifted her chin and embraced the challenge. The pompous ass needed frankness from _someone _in his life.

"Honestly?"

He nodded in encouragement.

"How about you try _delegating _support for a while instead of _dictating_ it?" She pushed side bangs from her face and stared hard into his eyes. "Who knows," she continued disinterestedly, "maybe that will save you from a severed head on a spike?"

The tension in the bar sputtered like a deflated tire at the sight of Klaus' soft smile. Removing his hands from behind his back, he ripped the croissant he held—procured, but never eaten—into two equal pieces.

"I suppose there's only one way to find out, isn't there, love?" he asked.

Looking up, he compressed his lips into a thin line and extended his hand tentatively—offering, not obliging—Caroline half. Fear trembled almost imperceptibly in his fingertips as he extended his croissant of compromise. Would she accept; would she reject? Klaus seemed unsure. Not only unsure, but afraid.

Why was he always so full of doubt? Guarding his heart with a fence of paranoia? Caroline knew why, but the _always_ needed to be demoted to _sometimes_. Like now. _Seriously_.

Caroline couldn't help but study him, once again marveling at how clearly he hung onto each second of her shock, onto each moment of her wordless hesitation, waiting to see if her answer would disappoint him. Yet again.

Contrary to his expectation, however, she accepted his offer gladly…and with a smile.

As for the rest of the room, they couldn't help but betray a little surprise. After all, it wasn't every day that Klaus Mikaelson attempted to _try_, let alone to make concessions in the ruling of the city. _His _city.

Apparently there _was_ a first time for everything—and today, it was due to the fearless urgings of a pretty, perky blonde. Who knew?

* * *

**_Friday 9:05 P.M., St. Matthews Catholic Church:_**

When Davina had whispered at the Council meeting that she'd sent the cryptic bar note, that she'd uncovered a way to find Bonnie, Caroline had anticipated a clandestine rendezvous spot. (The little witch had insisted on preserving her no-Klaus condition. And sneaking around Mr. All-Knowing wasn't easy, okay?) But she hadn't expected a church. A graveyard or an ancient witchy crypt, maybe, but not a church.

Tucked away in the corner of a shadowy street, it erected a formidable, forgotten beauty with its ornate stones and elaborate stained glass windows, many of which were broken or shattered by debris from Hurricane Katrina. Bells, fractured and water-logged, still swung from the steeple, but no longer reverberated with heavenly music. Irreparable damage shrouded the place, this consecrated ground, in a morose silence—an unkind reminder that despair sometimes forever lingered in places once vibrant.

Caroline hesitated at the base of the long, steep steps, peering up at them like a treacherous mountain she dreaded—but needed—to climb.

It'd been a month-and-a-half. Had it been that long already? A month-and-a-half had passed since she'd last cried goodbye, since black rose petals had last showered the floor of Fell's Church behind her mother's closed casket. Caroline hadn't been inside a church since; she hadn't wanted to step inside one again. Not for a long, long time. And, yet, here she stood next to an expectant, jubilant Kol—at the entrance of the one place she'd promised herself to avoid: a church.

How could a hallowed building so lovely and welcoming feel so hostile, Caroline wondered? How? Before she found an answer, Kol spoke, breaking her from her reverie.

"Are you ready, sunshine?" he probed.

Armed not only with the task of rescuing her best friend, but with combating the renewed sorrow of her mother's death, Caroline clutched tightly to Kol's arm.

"It's now or never," she breathed.

A weak smile lifted her lips as Kol tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. Together, they headed up toward the closed church doors. With an extra person for support, what could possibly go wrong?

* * *

**_5 days ago, 9:33 A.M. Rousseau's: _**

"Is that why you're in New Orleans?" Hayley asked. She strummed her fingers on the table in a rapid, irritated rhythm. "To teach us backwater southerners the rules of diplomacy?"

Standing, she scoffed and flipped her chair, skidding it across the floor like a pebble.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" she asked, her brown eyes wide in accusation. "You know nothing—absolutely _nothing_—about what happens here. Why should Klaus…why should _anyone_ give a damn about what some once-upon-a-time beauty queen from Mystic Falls, Virginia has to say?"

"I'm glad you asked that," Caroline replied with a sun-shining smile.

Turning to face the others, she continued.

"I'm Caroline Forbes—" she flashed a small wave "—and I'm in the city to help ward off a dire witch threat, which Hayley—" she paused, flicking her fingers at the werewolf in _ignore her_ fashion "—knows _nothing _about."

Hayley glared and stepped forward, but found herself restrained by Rebekah who held her by the wrist.

"Unless you want to find yourself, or your pack, magic-hijacked on the way home," Rebekah said, holding the girl steady, "I suggest you shut up and listen to the beauty queen."

Klaus brushed his index finger across his lips, hiding a smirk.

"Who are these people?" Davina asked.

"Witches, darling," Kol offered. He slinked an arm around her shoulders and dropped his voice for effect, waggling his eyebrows. "_Wicked_ witches plotting—"

"—for world domination," Enzo interrupted.

The Council members began to whisper and laugh amongst themselves. The room seemed divided—half was gripped with serious concern, half was wondering if this contrived "threat" was nothing more than a joke. Another plot for more Mikaelson power.

For the moment, Hayley straddled the line in-between. She crossed her arms and demanded more information.

"And you know how to stop this quest for world domination, do you?" Laughing, she glanced at Caroline with eyes full of dubiousness and disgust. "You probably don't even know what they're after!" she argued.

"What do they want?" Cami asked. She looked to Caroline with a mixture of curiosity and encouragement. "Or who?" she amended, gulping.

Klaus flashed into the middle of the room. Reaching into his back pocket, he extracted a star-shaped object that glimmered gold refracted triangles onto the floor beneath the muted bar lights. Not only did it look ancient, but it hummed with ancient potential. And magic.

"This is what Kai and my once-imprisoned sister, Freya—"

"—the _Original _bitch of the West," Kol added with a smirk.

"—want and need to procure what they desire…—" Klaus held the ascendant high into the air, waving it from side-to-side for everyone to see. "—immortality."

Rebekah smacked her lips together and nodded at the object.

"It holds a lot of power. Lethal power," she said.

The ascendant seemed to purr louder as she said this. Stronger.

"Which in the wrong hands," Klaus paused, smiling down at it with smugness, "could lead to catastrophe…and death…for us all. Luckily—"

Hayley stiffened at this and came to stand opposite him.

"Why do you have it?" she asked. She stood with fists clenched at her side, white-knuckled in accusation. "Why not Elijah or—"

"—_I_ gave it him," Caroline said, finally inserting herself back into the conversation. She poised herself on the edge of a table to Klaus' right. "It's why I'm here; it's why my friend sent me."

Her eyes flickered to Klaus' face, fixing him with a look without irony because she finally figured it out. Yes, she finally understood.

"I saved it from Kai's scheming, murderous hands and came here willingly. To him." She pointed her thumb at Klaus. "I chose—no—I _choose _to trust him. Because here's the thing: there's no one better to protect the ascendant."

Feeling fidgety, Caroline jumped up and paced back-and-forth in front of the collected Council members, stopping only to wipe her clammy palms against her jeans.

"He's old—" muffled laughter "—he's threatening, he's diabolical," she continued, un-phased, "but he's also strong and powerful. He's freaking _smart_, okay! You know why?" she half-cheered with her right hand raised over her head.

"Why?" Hayley asked, unimpressed and unmoved.

Caroline halted in front of the smart-tongued werewolf while Klaus shuffled uncomfortably, his hand over his eyes, hanging on her unspoken words.

"Because he knows that _no one_—not even the un-killables of this room—can defeat Kai and Freya alone," she said. Leaning in, she shook Hayley by the shoulders, hoping to knock some sense into her. "We have—" she bit her bottom lip "—to stick—" she bore her blue eyes into Hayley's, teeth clenched "—_together_."

"Freya is a bloody formidable magic-wielding bitch," Rebekah quipped. "If you add her siphoning lover into the mix," she snorted without humor, "you're basically charred supernatural toast."

"And you want to survive. Don't you, wolf-girl?" Enzo asked in a provoking tone.

Hayley glared and tossed an empty platter at his face in response, which he dodged without trouble.

"If synergy and trust are too difficult or horrible for you to try—" Caroline paused, bending in with bright innocence beaming across her face. She patted the girl's shoulder soothingly and half-whispered, "-I guess you'll be their first unprotected target, won't you?" she smiled. "But who would be next?" she asked, tapping her lip with her finger tauntingly and peering at Hayley's collected pack members.

Hayley opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it abruptly.

Caroline watched the mental turmoil erupt across the girl's features and how it clouded them in insolent surrender—not wanting to agree, but having no choice. As alpha, the werewolf would never endanger the lives or the livelihood of her pack. (She had learned that much about wolves from Tyler.) It didn't matter how much she hated Caroline's interference in New Orleans...Hayley wouldn't jeopardize her family.

And while Caroline wasn't a Hayley fan, she respected the girl's sense of loyalty. It was their sole bridge of commonality. Why not exploit it?

And so, with one unwilling nod, Hayley said, "Your unexpected arrival makes sense now."

That was as good as it was bound to get, Caroline realized. And she'd take it. A win was still win, right?

As the girls finished marking their supernatural "territory," the sound of smashing bottles suddenly erupted from behind the bar. A man in a black baseball cap bounded to the counter in cocky flair. With a bottle of expensive wine poised in one hand, he gripped a basket of peanuts in the other.

"Excuse me," Cami said stepping forward, crunching glass beneath her feet, "but what do you think you're doing?"

The man faced away from them and chomped loudly.

"Getting snacks." He turned his hat backwards. "There's something about cat fights that makes me hungry," he wisecracked, still munching.

"Coffee and croissants aren't good enough for you, mate?" Enzo asked. Caution characterized his steps as he maneuvered in front of Cami, pushing her behind him.

The man sighed as if to demonstrate his boredom. Turning, he shoveled another handful of peanuts into his mouth.

"Since I'm a meeting _crasher_—" he chewed obnoxiously "—I don't think she—" he gestured at Caroline "—intended those croissants for me," he said.

A malicious grin spread across his lips the moments their eyes met—hers full of shock and disgust, his full of devious satisfaction.

"Did you _sweet _Caroline?" he asked.

At the sound of his tone, at that repulsive inflection, the Originals and Enzo assumed defensive positions around her, knees bent, encircling her in a blockade of supernatural prowess. Klaus out-stepped the rest by flanking her on the left side like a protective knight and snarled.

"Great, just what we need," Hayley mumbled, "another Mystic Falls friend."

Cami tapped Davina on the shoulder and pointed at the black-hatted stranger with confusion.

"Who is that?" she asked.

Hearing this, the man vaulted to the ground licking his lips like a snake about to strike.

"The name's Kai," he proclaimed, inclining his head in introduction. "It's so nice to meet you all—" he clapped with excitement "—Finally!"

Raising his arms into the air almost like in prayer, Kai tilted his head back, eyes closed, and inhaled. Deeply. After he released the breath through his nostrils, he lowered his chin and opened his eyes.

Black. Hollow. Spinning. Caroline couldn't look away—she was yanked into the revolving obscurity of his irises. They pulled her away from the light. Far, far, _far_ away. Would she ever get back? _Could_ she ever get back?

An ear-piercing siren suddenly screeched through the bar as Kai flicked his wrists and began to conduct a symphony of dissonant torture. Everyone—vampires, werewolves, witches, humans, Originals—collapsed to their knees in convulsive shuddering, their screams laced with irrepressible agony and cursing. Some shrieked; others sobbed. There was no in-between. There were no exceptions. Just one indisputable fact: no one was immune.

Swooping his arms outward, part in spell and part in triumph, Kai promenaded around their tottering heads and cackled with derision at the sight of their involuntary writhing. At their helplessness. A victorious skip characterized his bouncing steps.

"I am _no_ friend—" he announced.

Crouching to leer in Caroline's pained face, Kai bopped her nose playfully yet earnestly with his finger and tilted his head sideways, looking deep into her unconscious eyes.

"—I'm half of your worst nightmare."

* * *

**Additional Note: Because I felt that it was important to illustrate the contention that exists between the supernaturals in NOLA, I spread the _Rousseau's_ drama over the course of two chapters. ****Will they work together or won't they? Don't worry, though, because they'll have to answer that question next chapter-with Kai and Freya _both_ present. The antagonists are in hiding no more...lots of action to come!**

**Leave a review and let me know your thoughts. Thanks for reading!**

**-Ashlee Bree**


	7. Bad Blood

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Lots of action. And Mikaelson drama. And Kai and Freya. **

**Have at it, lovelies...**

* * *

**Friday, April 26****th**** 9:42 P.M**.:

Teeth glimmered in the darkness, impeccable and white. A laugh tainted the shadows, cold and severe. A hand that wielded an assassin's wooden blade threatened to annihilate with a single plunge of the wrist. Just one.

Caroline gulped—not from fear, but from resolve. Tonight, it seemed that fate demanded a noble sacrifice from her. And her alone.

"I'm sorry," a voice purred nearby, "But I'm afraid we have to say goodbye now. Forever this time."

Caroline's trembling hands positioned the instrument above her hammering heart while her eyelashes blinked away any ounce of hesitation.

In order to conquer, she must yield. There was no other way.

"Go ahead," Caroline challenged, her elated smile defying expectation, "I _dare _you."

* * *

**5 days ago, Rousseau's:**

Tail lights, windshield wipers, a cracked window, flecks of fluffy snow. Her dad's retreating hand waving, waving, waving. Why was he always waving goodbye, but never hello?

Popping kettle corn and balloon animals. Bonnie and Elena ahead of her in the carnival crowds. Whispering. Always whispering. Sharing secrets and pink cotton candy that tastes like a pink cloud.

_Wait for me_! Caroline yells, losing them in a sea of snickering faces. _Wait for me! _They never do.

Those moonless nights with a bottle of cheap wine. Grass beneath her butt and a flashlight searching her zombie eyes, a mountain of anonymous bodies behind her making a blood-stained goodnight pillow. A head that won't stop aching, a heart that won't stop thirsting for more. Blood satiated and blood sustained; it was how blood soiled her once-human heart.

_You are not my daughter anymore_, Liz says. _I'm disappointed—_she sighs, shaking her head—_much too disappointed in you._

Disowned.

Caroline reaches out to a mother no longer there. There's nothing there but turned backs, sunken heads, and vacant space. Alone, alone, alone. Must it remain so dark and damp in this place of alone? This wasn't where she wanted to be, was it?

_ Let me out, let me out, let me out!_

She bangs against the blackness with her fists, but no one hears. No one. She becomes a lost echo in the night.

**9:55 A.M:**

Caroline's mind flooded with visions of long-buried fears, with images of her deepest, most secret sorrows. Death. Defeat. Doubt. They were all there, festering. Attacking her closed eyelids like a relentless montage of awful. Impossible to escape.

No one needed such forceful reminders, but what could she do besides writhe against them? What could she do whenever someone else's finger pressed the button of control? Nothing. Caroline could do nothing. Was there anything worse in this life than helplessness?

With the snap of someone's fingers, the horror receded. It disappeared back into its private abode in the recesses of her subconscious, chirping like an invisible cricket. Perhaps Caroline could no longer see it, but she could still hear its summer song—a haunting melody permanently on _play_.

"I told you to detain them, not to immobilize them," a female voice said. Her tone betrayed minute irritation.

The smell of peanuts wafted across Caroline's nostrils, forcing her heavy eyes open.

"Potate-o, potat-o," Kai answered with a yawn.

He waved his hands in no-big-deal measure as he swiveled, unbothered, on a bar stool ten paces away.

"It's easier this way, Freya baby," he cooed, reaching for her hand. "They're contained."

The woman, the elusive Freya Mikaelson, a wispy thing with long, sandy hair, approached to cup Kai's chin in her hand, rocking his head side-to-side.

"Look at that face;" she purred affectionately, "I can never stay mad at you—" sternness raked her hazel eyes as she cocked his head up to look at her "—not even when you bicker with that Bennett nuisance you insist on keeping around," she groaned.

A pout clouded her features here, making Caroline want to slap her. Why? Because: 1) Whining grated on her nerves. 2) The witch-bitch's boyfriend, lover, secret sex slave—whatever—kidnapped Bonnie! Where the hell was she? Where, where, _where_?

_Specifics devil woman, speak specifics!_

"Just think of her as a collector's item—" Kai replied "—vintage magic wrapped in a tempestuous package."

Hiding a fond smile, he swished a loose strand of hair from Freya's face and tucked it behind her ear.

"In the end, it's just you—" Kai kissed her temple "—and me," he breathed.

He fixed her with a penetrating look; eyes locked and steady, and tickled her cheek with his thumb.

"It's just you and me, baby," he reiterated, "always."

Caroline wanted to vomit in disgust, but she remained still. Quiet. With two vengeful, powerful witches in the room, the element of surprise would never be a bad thing. But could they stop with the eternal devotion already and say something useful? Yuck. Just _yuck_!

Freya sighed contentedly and leaned in to rest her forehead against his, closing her eyes.

"What did you do to them, anyway?" she asked, motioning behind her casually.

Incapacitated. That's the first word that sprung to mind as Caroline looked around. Sprawled bodies coated the floor of _Rousseau's _in a collective mass of astonishment. Terror painted faces; trembling afflicted limbs. Judging by everyone's what-the-hell-happened expressions, Caroline gathered that she hadn't been alone in that mental prison of horror.

_But what had the others seen?_ she wondered.

A tender yet possessive arm suddenly draped around her waist. Klaus tugged Caroline into his chest soundlessly and buried his face in her silky curls, breathing her in—blonde, vanilla, and goodness—his lips nearly pressed against the back of her neck. His strong, calloused hands roamed through her hair, across the soft skin of her cheeks, down the length of her body. They tangled, at long last, in the fabric loops of her jeans.

Klaus touched her like he didn't believe she was real. He traced every outline with the precision of an artist who'd found the perfect combination of colors. He fondled her like an illusion about to vanish—nimble yet grasping—and it left her breathless. Absolutely breathless.

"Are you all right, Caroline?" he breathed, barely audible.

Though she knew it shouldn't, it felt so good, so safe, to be this close to him. Wrapped in Klaus' arms. Before she knew what she was doing, she snuggled into him further and sighed, allowing the hybrid's strong arms to absorb her frightened quivers.

"Yes," she murmured in reply, "I'm okay."

Kai and Freya remained ignorant to the slow stirrings around the room. Council members began to awaken from their nightmarish daze.

"I siphoned power from Mr. Lateness outside," Kai explained to the witch. "I compelled them nightmares—" he cracked his knuckles and grinned "—Horrible ones," he elaborated, "the worst their imaginations could conjure."

As he spoke, Freya straddled his lap and clutched his neck with both hands.

"You're such a naughty boy, aren't you?" she crooned, wrapping her legs around his waist. Red, pointy fingernails scratched through his short, dark hair. "Now, kiss me," she commanded, "one—" she leaned in "—last—" her eyes were fierce and demanding "—time—" her tongue ran over her bottom lip seductively "—then we make them _suffer_," she added with an evil smile.

Slapping tongues, vulgar thrusting, appalled screaming, and blood. Fresh, dripping blood. It had all happened so fast: one minute Klaus was holding Caroline close against his body, the next he was puncturing his hybrid fangs into Kai's neck while Freya lay discarded and contorted against smashed liquor bottles. Across the room.

"The only person who will suffer, long lost sister—" he wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand "—is _you_," he growled.

With fangs still bared, he sauntered over to Freya's staggering form in the nook across the room. Glass from broken bottles had sliced a sizeable gash into the cheek beneath her right eye. It gave the impression that she was crying blood.

"Leave this bar. Leave these people. Leave this city. _My _city," Klaus demanded, "Or I promise you—" his irises gleamed yellow, the color of the big, bad beast "—on the dead bodies of our parents, whose lives _I_ took—" he juggled a piece of shattered glass "—I'll make you wish you were never born."

At this, without flinching, Klaus launched the shard of glass he held in his hand like a dart. The target? Freya's left palm—which quickly found itself stabbed into the Klimt painting behind her head. Bloodied and with a gaping wound.

Freya screeched in pain on impact, then yanked the glass from her hand and flung it to the floor. An air of defiance surrounded her as she stomped the shard into pieces beneath her black-toed boots, her dark gaze never faltering for a moment.

Everyone regained their feet slowly, braced and prepared for attack. Kai, bitten and bleeding, looked peeved as he leaned back against the bar counter, nursing his throbbing, wounded neck with his hand.

"Did you—" he laughed "—did you just—am I tasting werewolf venom on my tongue?"

Half repulsed, half amused, Kai attempted to eject it from his mouth by spitting. Rebekah removed chipped pink nail polish from her fingernails, not deigning to look up.

"That won't help, moron," she huffed, "You'll still die regardless."

"There's only cure for that kind of thing, mate—" Kol added.

"—Klaus' blood," Caroline finished, quirking a smile. She approached Kai in swaggering steps, bending in his face as his legs collapsed onto a stool in shock. "Which you're so _not _getting," she mocked, patting his head.

He swatted her hand away.

"It's too bad you wasted your siphoned magic on nightmares..." she sighed, shrugging and snapping her fingers in _shucks._

"Hallucinating agony must be a most dreadful demise," Klaus remarked over his shoulder, "I'll look forward to observing yours—" he paused, fixing Kai with a contemptuous glare "—_first-hand_."

Caroline grabbed Kai's shirtfront, her fangs descending as her hand curled into a fist around the fabric. She peered hard into his overconfident black eyes.

"Not as much as I will," she snarled.

Kai grinned back at her, all teeth and delight. The man would be arrogant and defiant until his last breath, wouldn't he?

A crack of thunder sounded through the bar, so loud, that everyone cowered and covered their ears. There was nothing like a sonic boom to make Caroline wonder if vampires could go deaf. Holy hell! What _was _that?

Looking around, Caroline noticed that Cami and Davina huddled close together by the stage while Hayley clenched and unclenched her fists. Enzo, using his pinky in an effort to un-staunch his hearing, mumbled _bloody temperamental bitch _under his breath.

"And here I thought our family reunion could be civil!" Freya exclaimed as she lowered her hands, her boots clickity-clacking against the floor.

She came to stand opposite Klaus and flicked a piece of fuzz off his green Henley, a gesture that seemed to suggest that they were the oldest, most comfortable of friends, not estranged siblings. Appraising him, she asked, "Didn't you miss me at all?"

Her voice sounded hollow and a bit…vulnerable? Or was it hopeful?

Strangely, right now, Freya reminded Caroline of Klaus. There was something about the witch's paranoid, yearning expression and how she nibbled her bottom lip in preparation for the coming answer. Freya's face said it all—she wanted love, but expected rejection. And for a moment, brief though it was, Caroline felt bad for the girl. Sorry.

"Miss you? Ha!" Kol said with a cackle. A toothpick hung out of his mouth as he strolled around Davina and Cami. "Are you fucking _insane_?"

Freya lifted her nose at his incredulous tone. That fleeting wonder, that momentary softness that brushed across her cheeks in pale hope just a few seconds before, was gone. Vanished.

"Why should we be happy to see you?" Rebekah sneered, tapping her foot.

"Because I'm your sister," Freya countered.

Kol raised his finger and stepped to Klaus' left.

"Sorry, darling," he said, "but plotting to suck away all our supernatural ability for yourself means that you can't play the family obligation card."

"Treachery isn't something this lot forgets, love," Enzo commented from behind.

Diverted, Klaus tapped his chin and smirked while Rebekah shoved them both aside to affront her sister.

"Sister?" She threw her head back and laughed, hot and salty, right in the Original witch's face. "All you've ever cared about is power and supremacy, not love! Not _me_. Not—" she swooped her arms outwards wildly, indicating her two brothers "—not _them_!" Tears sprang into her eyes and her voice became thick with emotion. "1,000 years locked away in a prison realm and you haven't bloody changed at all! I still have _no_ sister!"

A twinge shot across Caroline's heart as she listened to Rebekah's angry and imploring speech, but she didn't say a word. In fact, no one dared to intervene. This screamed _family matter_ from a million miles away. And all anyone without the last name Mikaelson could do was watch…

"I never did," Rebekah continued.

"You want a sister?" Freya replied, stepping closer. "You want me to _love_ you?" she bellowed with a scoff. She squeezed Rebekah by the shoulders, digging in with fingernails. "Then give me what I want!" Freya shook her hard. "Give me the ascendant!"

She extended her hand in deranged demand.

Klaus pushed between his two sisters, shoving Rebekah behind him in a protective, possessive way. With his hands clasped behind his back, he leaned into Freya's face, eyes narrowed, "You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you…long lost sister?"

He scratched the stubble on his chin and dimpled at her.

"You didn't expect me to just hand it over?" he goaded.

He juggled the ascendant carelessly between his fingertips and glowered down at Freya. A hint of the devil settled across his features as he cocked his head to the side, flapping the desired object in her face, under her nose. Freya followed it with her eyes like a hypnotized dog until Klaus stowed it away again in his back pocket with an arrogant pat.

"Not without a _fight_," he stressed, his jaw tight.

Rage caused Freya to levitate from the ground in one magical swoop. Wild. Savage. Ferocious. There weren't enough words to describe the fire of hell blazing in her eyes.

Two mirrors. Two siblings. Klaus and Freya reflected the same indomitable skill, the same obstinate resolve, the same uncontainable wrath. Dangerous. Destructive. Deadly. Who would win; who would lose?

Caroline marveled at their undeniable similarities and how the same tenacious blood coursed through their veins—they were Mikaelsons, through and through. And yet, despite this terrifying epiphany, she was reminded that Klaus possessed something that Freya appeared to lack right now: a salvageable heart.

Kai rustled on his bar stool, using one hand to grab Caroline by the wrist and the other to gain Freya's attention.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat. "I hate to break up family reunion hour, but—" he motioned at his blistering, infected neck wound "—I'm kind of, you know…_dying_. Could you maybe, oh, I don't know—" his voice became louder, dropping the sarcastic pretense "—fucking _fix _me already?"

Landing next to him, Freya gave him an apologetic look and encircled his free hand with a forceful squeeze.

Caroline freed herself and watched in horror as their joined hands vibrated—literally vibrated—with thunderous energy. Not only did it charge Kai like a magical-fueled battery, but it healed his death-sentence-hybrid bite in seconds…which was impossible. At least it should be…

Davina gasped.

"You always were combative, Nik." Wickedness washed over Freya's features as she said this, a pleased smile painting her lips. "But the unstoppable power resides within me," she said, gesturing at her bones, "_not _you." She flung hair over her shoulder and laughed. "Why do you think Mother sent _me_ to a prison world and left you here to roam freely, cursed only with the caged werewolf inside of you?"

In this moment, it was as if no one but Klaus and Freya existed. The same sinister look reflected in both of their eyes, neither one breaking eye contact. Neither one sacrificing resolve.

"I'm sure being an unbearable bitch had something to do with it, too," Hayley spat.

Signaling to her assembled pack members, she crouched in defense.

Freya deflected the insult with apathy, continuing instead to assault her siblings with words.

"I _will_ get what I want from you—" her lips curled in threat "—you _will_ comply," she said. "Because I—" she licked her lips "—I have the power to destroy you. _All_ of you."

With his siblings and Caroline flanking him on all sides, Klaus juggled a table leg in his right hand and stepped forward all bravado.

"We'd like to see you try," he challenged with a hiss.

Freya shook out her fingers and sighed. Disappointment marred her expression, but so did something else…obstinacy.

"If you insist…" she shrugged.

"Come on in, boys!" Kai exclaimed. Grinning, he rubbed his hands together and blew on his fingers in readiness. "Let the games begin!"

* * *

**Friday, 9:25 P.M, St. Matthews' Catholic Church**

Perhaps it hadn't been smart to let Kol fetch Davina from upstairs. _Be right back_ from a man easily distracted seemed likely to result in impatient waiting on Caroline's end—not that he seemed like the type to abide by the conventions of punctuality, anyway—but twenty minutes? Come _on_! This was so _not _the time to dawdle!

Not only had they snuck out of the compound and blatantly disobeyed Klaus' don't-leave-without-informing-me decree (an offense likely to end in dagger-like wrath), but Kai and Freya had unleashed supernatural hell. Worse, they were holding Bonnie…somewhere. And that unknown _somewhere_ was the precise reason she was here—to unearth it. To freaking find—and if necessary—rescue, her best friend.

If all that wasn't bad enough, Caroline now found herself abandoned and alone in an empty, echoing place of once-worship. An eerie silence permeated the church that clung to the stone walls and spider-webbed the deteriorating altar in a mirage of godliness. Tattered white cloths draped to the floor in thick folds, their bottoms dirtied with dirt, dust, and debris while gold-encrusted communion dishes waited for the end of a sermon that would never begin. The solitude provided here wasn't comforting either…it was freaking creepy!

_Damn Kol for straying from the buddy system!_ Caroline cursed silently.

(Vampire or not, she still believed a church was a holy place that deserved respect, okay?)

Jumping up from the front pew, she disregarded the silent seclusion by humming a tranquil tune her mom loved and moving into a vestibule to the left of the altar. A five-tier rack of candles populated the space—Vigil Lights. Caroline smiled. Tonight, at least, this forgotten church would burn bright with the warmth of her prayers.

"_Someday I'll wish upon a star_—" Caroline sang as she sparked a second match, lowering the flame inside the golden candleholder to light the wick "—_wake up where the clouds are far behind me_—"

Growing up, Liz used to cast away her middle-of-the-night monster nightmares by serenading her tenderly with this song. Her mother's voice streamed rainbows into the dark shadows of the night. Before long, the tune became their mother-daughter lullaby of soft breathing, snuggling, and consoling lips that kissed away the scary.

"—_Where trouble melts like lemon drops_—" Caroline's voice rang through the exposed rafters like a choir of chapel bells. "—_high above the chimney tops_—"

Tears—some grateful, others sad, pooled in her eyes as she remembered her parents. Perhaps death took their bodies away too soon, but that love lived on in each sung word, in each cherished memory, in each tear that dripped from her eyes. And as long as she loved them, as long as she remembered, would they ever truly be gone?

"—_that's where you'll find me_…"

At the termination of this verse, all of the unlit candles in the vestibule suddenly flickered aflame, basking Caroline's tear-stained face in a dim golden light. Footsteps echoed along the steps of the altar as she wiped her eyes. Kol had excellent timing, didn't he?

"Your mom deserves more than one candle."

Caroline jerked to attention at the sound of the voice behind her.

"This place should glow in her memory—" sympathy and kindness filled the familiar voice "—don't you think?"

Turning, Caroline stared at the petite brunette—who wasn't Davina—that beamed at her from the pulpit. One arm rested on the slanted ledge for support, the other dangled casually behind her back.

"Bonnie?" Caroline gaped, "You're here?"

"I'm here," she replied, still smiling.

At this, as Bonnie descended the pulpit stairs to approach her startled friend, Caroline flashed at her, engulfing her in a hug so tight that it radiated with emotion. Relief. Disbelief. Joy. Just absolute, uncontainable joy.

"You're here! You're here! You're here!" she squealed as she rocked them side-to-side. "I don't know if I should be more livid or ecstatic that you're—" Caroline paused, pulling away. "Wait," she blinked questioningly at her best friend, gripping her by the shoulders, "how in the hell _are _you here? How did you escape Kai?"

A grin spread across Bonnie's face. It was wide…it was eager…it was _wrong_. She leaned in, eyes hard, lips gnarled.

"Easy," she whispered, "I didn't."

Removing the hand hidden behind her back, she clasped a wooden blade in her sturdy fist, pointing it at Caroline's thumping, undead heart.

"And neither will you," she grimaced, lurching forward.

A slithering thud emanated from the balcony above them. Invisible hands—some kind of magical rope—clutched Caroline around the waist and launched her backwards into rows of vacant pews. Away from Bonnie, away from the poised stake.

Kol's labored words rebounded through the church as he shoved his bloody face through wooden spokes. He had saved her! Kol had saved Caroline from imminent death at the hands of her best friend.

"It's a trap!" he roared in warning. "She's not free! Get it off, Caroline!" he choked, his voice hoarse, "Get it off her!"

Get what off her? The stake? The bitterness? The murderous look in her eyes? Caroline took a millisecond to re-adjust her spinning head. Kol bloody and bellowing; Bonnie brutal and beastly—what the actual _fuck_ was happening?

"I knew I should have killed you first, you sniveling worm," Bonnie spat at him with venom, "I've hated you since the beginning!"

Kol grappled to his feet, hanging his tattered and limp self across the balcony railing for support.

"Careful, darling," he replied, cheeky as ever, "there's a thin line between love and hate," he winked.

As if silently challenging this, Bonnie pushed her arms forward with sinister force and uttered Latin incantations under her breath. At first, nothing happened. Then, Caroline watched as Kol suddenly suspended into the air—high—writhing with a bruising struggle to breathe—his arms extended perpendicular to his body, his head oscillating back and forth as blood poured from his nostrils. Vigil Light flames darted at him like mosquitoes, licking his exposed skin into charred fossils. Electricity, the color of purple lightning, shuddered through him, flipping him and siphoning his energies like an incubus forever unsatiated. Ravaged slowly, excruciatingly, he couldn't fight back. Not like this.

"There's also a thin line between life and death," Bonnie replied. Her lips pursed in intense concentration as she continued her spell. "Why don't we find out how thin it is?" she asked, her words dripping with disdain.

Appalled, Caroline watched as Bonnie deconstructed Kol piece-by-piece. Body, magic, and soul. She was a demon primed to pillage, not a witch infused with the magical grace of nature. Who was this monster? What had Kai and Freya done to her best friend? What in the hell had they done?

* * *

**5 days ago, Rousseau's:**

Bright sunshine streamed into the dim bar as Elijah paraded through the street exit door dragging an unconscious black man behind him. He deposited him like luggage, on his back, behind a brown leather couch to the left of the bar.

"Marcel!" Cami threw a hand over her mouth and lurched forward onto her knees next to a gaping Davina. The young witch began mumbling healing spells under her breath immediately.

"What the bloody hell happened to him, Elijah?" Rebekah cried.

She moved to dart across the room, but Kol held her firmly by the wrist. Caution flashed at her from his brown eyes. He perceived something no one else did.

"Nothing," he said. Elijah adjusted his red skinny tie and nudged the man's arm lightly with his foot. "He's just weary."

Caroline didn't know much about Marcel. The only things she'd learned about him, besides his tardiness, were that he was Klaus' most esteemed sire and that he helped govern the vampire faction. That being said, the guy didn't look too good right now.

And neither did Klaus. Rigid, the hybrid's arms shook with increasing lividness.

"Don't worry, Barbie," Kai said, "Loverboy will wake soon."

He reached for a bag of unopened tortilla chips on a nearby shelf.

"Or is he yours?" Smiling, he crunched on a chip and motioned at Cami. "His love life is little gray."

Freya tsk-tsked.

"You never were good at eliminating competition, Rebekah—"

Marcel stirred on the floor, his senses still drenched in fogginess. Cami screeched and pointed at the movement; Davina released a relieved sigh. He wasn't dead.

"—let me see if I can help you with that," Freya finished.

Looking at his eldest sister, Elijah unbuttoned his suit jacket and reached under the right lapel.

"I take it negotiations fell through?" he asked.

Freya vaulted to a nearby table and nodded in affirmation. This caused Elijah to drop his head and shake it back-and-forth, dissatisfaction apparent.

"You give me no choice, Niklaus—" he sighed.

"—no choice to what?" the hybrid interrupted "—to scheme and collaborate with that fiend—" he pointed at Freya with weighty accusation "—behind _my_ back?"

Affronted, Klaus laughed. It sounded harsh and unforgiving, tainted only by the betrayal burning hot in his throat.

"Why?" he asked.

Vulnerability seeped into this last question, polluting his voice with emotion too potent to disguise. A spasm seized Caroline's heart at the sound; and as she looked at his face, she watched as anger and pain tightened the muscles along his jaw bone, around his lips. The sight of Klaus' blue eyes, wide and paranoid—she couldn't stand it! And so, before the dark shadow of rejection enveloped him completely, she extended the only comfort in her possession—her hand.

Flashing to his right, she intertwined their fingers and gripped tight to him. She pressed the message _You're not alone_ hard into his hand, praying beyond all hope that he'd understand. And that he wouldn't shove her concern away, shutting it down...like he almost always did.

"She made me a better deal," Elijah said as he adjusted his cuff links.

Caroline studied the refined man across from her.

Dependable, moral to a fault, distant Elijah—the Original who hid underneath sophisticated business suits and etiquette as he worked for centuries to preserve his dysfunctional family and to temper a vengeful Klaus. He now wanted to band with the witchy psychos, Kai and Freya? _Seriously_? Was this the same man who refused to sacrifice his brother in the sun-and-moon ritual, who once loved Katherine Pierce? Was this the same man, who only days ago, obtained Caroline a new phone so she could contact her friends in Mystic Falls? Would the real Elijah Mikaelson please stand up?

Something didn't make sense. Either Elijah just crowned himself king of duplicity or—Caroline looked at him.

Vacant. His brown eyes, ordinarily sharp and exacting, looked dull. His movements, usually characterized by their erect swiftness, now reached into his jacket pocket with robotic precision.

Elijah shook his head. "You leave me no choice, brother—"

Fear clenched Caroline's stomach as he removed his hand from his coat. Marcel, who slowly awakened, rubbed at his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Where am I?" he croaked.

"—Something's wrong!" she exclaimed as her fangs descended. "Stop him! We have to stop him!" She bellowed and pointed wildly at Elijah. "He doesn't know what he's doing!"

The whole bar seemed to whir into slow motion while chaos erupted around her. Together, she and Klaus lurched forward, hissing, at the same moment that Elijah removed a wooden stake from his jacket and raised it high above his head, aiming to secure it in Marcel's chest.

"I've tried and tried to explain the importance of diplomacy—" Elijah continued, his arm still raised. His voice sounded hollow and alien. "—but now my lesson must be _shown_, not heard."

Wind chafed at Caroline's cheeks as a brutal storm of shattered glass bottles, scalding black coffee, and sharp utensils brewed above their heads. It descended at the precise moment that Kol and Rebekah charged at their sister, Freya, with fangs and fire. Hayley, Enzo, and the other werewolves sprang at Kai like ravenous hyenas while Davina spelled tortilla chips and furniture to impede his vision. Cami scampered to secure two humans away in a closet, returning afterwards desperate to find a way to drag Marcel, still too weak to move, to safety.

"Marcel!" Davina yelled from atop a chair. She'd just sent a waterfall of water toppling over Hayley's head, just missing the evasive, siphoning Kai. "Watch out!"

Right before Elijah ended Marcel with one forceful stab, Klaus launched at him, crashing them both into the pool table behind the couch. The left side cracked under the force of their weight and showered them in billiard balls. Thrashing fists-to-face, knees-to-stomach, Klaus knocked the stake from his brother's hand with his elbow, sending it tossing and tumbling across the middle of the floor.

"Get—" Elijah cuffed him across the jaw "—it—" he pummeled them into the wall "—Caroline!" Klaus roared.

Hurdling over fighting Council members and flying debris, Caroline snatched it, along with some stomped tortilla chips, from the floor. As she attempted to secure it in the sleeve of her jean jacket, something struck her hard from behind. It knocked her to the ground. Onto her knees.

"You won't need this," Kai said.

He plucked the stake from her hand and threw it back towards the embattled Mikaelson brothers. Klaus still couldn't get his hands around Elijah's neck long enough to snap it and incapacitate him.

"And neither will I," Kai added with scorn.

Grabbing Caroline by the neck, he chucked her into the wall to their left and banged her forehead into the bricks. Again and again. White spots popped across her eyes, blinding her momentarily, as he flipped her around to face him.

With his hand poised around her throat, he said, "You can't win."

His words felt oppressive and repulsive against her face. Though she still couldn't see, Caroline heard more moaning and shuffling than she did cracking and thumping. The only remaining smashing sounds came from the corner Klaus and Elijah frequented, wrestling. Quiet. Much too quiet for a productive fight.

Freya's distant laugh, light and carefree, polluted the bar air.

"Why don't you just give up?" Kai prodded.

Caroline, never the quitter, thrashed at the sound of his suggestion and hissed in refusal.

"Never!" she snarled. She kneed him twice in the ribs and scratched her fingernails along the side of his face, burying them in skin and blood. "Not until you rip my undead, throbbing heart from my chest."

Caroline broke free, but only for a second. An unseen force—Kai's siphoned magic from an unlucky Council member probably—slammed her back against the wall, binding her wrists and ankles to the bricks.

"I've always admired your spirit, sweet Caroline—" rolling up his sleeve, he waggled his right eyebrow at her "—but the days full of your sassy threats—" he plunged his hand into her chest and clutched her heart, squeezing, tugging it with deadly force "—are _finished_," he shouted.

Caroline yelped in pain, awakening not only her restored eyesight, but Klaus' awareness.

"Leave her alone, you wanker!" Enzo yelled, chucking an empty peanut bowl at Kai's head. He dragged himself across the floor in swimming strokes, still too magic-dwindled to fight harder.

Depleted, not dead, the assembled supernaturals of the Council littered the bar in various stages of muted battledom. Some bruised and bled; others deflected and charged. Kol and Davina, among others, slithered across the floor on their elbows and shot flames at Freya's yawning figure with their fingers. Rebekah and Hayley took turns snapping, fangs poised, at the closest threat—but to no avail. No one came close. Kai and Freya were too…protected.

"Any last words—" Kai asked with an amused smile.

Caroline gasped as his fingers tore at the muscle tissues surrounding her heart. He plucked at them like guitar strings—in slow, taunting, rhythmic strokes.

"I ho—" she breathed, unable to get the words out.

Up until this point, Klaus had been too preoccupied with subduing Elijah and saving Marcel to pay heed to this current conflict. But at the sound of Caroline's distress, he halted immediately. Now tense and rigid, he unclenched his fists from around Elijah's collar and turned to her with eyes brimming with rage and fear.

"Caroline?" his voice cracked.

A deep, throaty growl escaped him then. Abandoning his brother and the coveted stake to the floor, he stormed across the room with menacing intent, his demeanor shrouded in loathing so profound that demons applauded with each subsequent step he took—only to find his progress impeded. Blocked, by an invisible wall.

"Oh, dear," Freya said, jumping down from the table on which she stood, "How will you save him now?"

A triumphant smile overtook her lips as she indicated to Elijah over by the jukebox.

"No! Please, Elijah!" Cami cried, pleading hysterically, "Please don't do this!"

The Original only hesitated for a second—to admire his prey—before thrusting the stake straight into Marcel's heart.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Rebekah wailed, collapsing to her knees and clutching to Klaus' shin.

Klaus stood motionless. Gawking. Incredulity crinkled his forehead.

Gray. Dessicated. Dead. It only took seconds for Elijah to complete the deed—Marcel was gone. They had lost one.

"Any last words, Caroline?" Kai repeated again.

His arm still stuck in her chest up to the elbow; his fingers still grasped her heart.

Hearing this, Klaus revived and flailed with mania—pushing, pounding, crashing, clawing, against the invisible wall erected between them. But he couldn't break through it—he couldn't reach her. He was powerless.

"Caroline!" he growled.

Desperation and woe clung to that word, to her name. The sound of those three syllables rolling off his tongue like that, full of worry and tenderness, filled her with warmth so strong and so vibrant, that it streamed through her veins like sunshine. She felt it thrumming, glowing, blossoming within her…

"_CAROLINE!_"

Klaus' voice sounded more agitated this time, more despairing. His eyes searched hers with frantic questions—all unanswered, all unspoken—and ravaged her with an insatiable need to preserve every last freckle, every rustled curl, every saucy remark. _Stay with me_, they pleaded, _Stay with me._

Oh, how she wanted to stay!

That word on his lips, her name, said it all. Everything. It spoke the truth, _finally_: Klaus cared! He couldn't bear to lose her. Not here. Not now. Not ever. It was no wonder Caroline couldn't answer Kai! Who had time for oxygen, let alone words, during an epiphany like that?

"You wanted a war, Niklaus." Freya patted him on the shoulder. "And here it is," she said, motioning at the scene before them. Whispering in his ear, she gnashed her teeth and added, "Suffer the consequences..."

Kai grabbed Caroline by the chin and forced her to look at him.

"What should I tell Bonnie?" he asked maliciously.

Caroline seethed at the mention of her best friend whom he'd kidnapped and held hostage for almost two weeks now. How dare him! Dying in front of a raging, helpless audience—and Klaus—was bad enough, but what about Bonnie? What would happen to her? How would this lunatic torture her now?

Fuming and snarling with hatred, Caroline's fingers dug into the bricks behind her, burning.

"FUCK—" What she wouldn't _do_ to fry that cocky smirk right off his face! "—YOU!" she snapped.

Before she knew what she was doing, Caroline ripped her scalding hands from the wall with as much strength as she could muster and lunged at Kai's throat. Somehow, the spell lifted. The invisible restraints disappeared—or incinerated—as light exploded from her hands with blinding intensity.

It blasted into Kai's face…against his skin, through his hair, in his eyes…with such torrid power that he stumbled backwards, releasing hold of her heart and crawling away.

"What's happening? Freya?" A hysterical edge overtook Kai's voice. "_Freya_!"

Collective awe reverberated through _Rousseau's_. Everyone stared. Why? Not only did Caroline's hands burst with some unknown, unanticipated power, but the rest of her radiated in various dazzling shades of gold and black.

"I don't fucking believe it," Kol laughed, cheering her on, "Shine, sunshine! _Shine_!"

"She's more than sunshine, mate," Enzo said. He wiped blood from his forearm and collapsed onto a chair near a tear-stained Rebekah. "She's the bloody solar eclipse!"

Kai continued to writhe on the floor and rub at his eyes. Every time he attempted to rush at her, however, he found himself tangled inside a dense blackness and knotted into place like a used garbage bag.

"The light, the dark—" he shouted at Freya"—I—I can't take them from her!" he scrambled onto his knees "—I can't use them…"

He couldn't siphon; he couldn't expel. Trapped, he became a warlock with no magical escape.

As he said this, Elijah pinned Hayley to the bar counter by the throat. The werewolf had tried to reawaken his moral sensibilities through discourse, but found him uncooperative…and aggressive.

"Then _I _will!" Freya said, the air thundering above her in warning.

Just as she raised her fingers in impending threat, two things happened: 1) Rebekah stabbed her sister in the ribs with a stray fork while Klaus nestled his fangs into her shoulder. 2) Caroline blistered Elijah's hand away from Hayley's chest with vibrant golden light, causing him to topple to the floor. Not only did this action prevent the werewolf's impending death, but it saved the Original from additional killer's remorse when he became himself again. (Whenever that was.)

In the meantime, Davina and Cami smuggled the remaining Council members to safety thanks to Kol's super-healing spells and Enzo's vamp speed.

"Enough!"

Freya flicked her hands in a push-pull motion. The movement somersaulted her to the exit door and dragged Kai and Elijah next to her by magical tether. A shimmering red wall bubbled around them in protection.

"Bad blood exists between us now, doesn't it?" she asked with a snarl.

Strolling forward, she glared at her siblings and Caroline.

"Until you relinquish what's mine—" she motioned to the ascendant in Klaus' pocket "—I won't relinquish what's yours—" she tightened Elijah's tie and smiled "—_any_ of it."

Though she never said Bonnie's name, Freya's meaning wasn't lost on Caroline. She blazed brighter and stronger at the implication behind those words. The Original bitch _so _didn't want to mess with her in this fiery state!

But as Caroline raised her glowing hands in attack, the sparkling wall between them doused their heads—Kai, Freya, and Elijah's—in thick, goopy red, obscuring them from view and from her blasting light. In a blink, it swallowed them whole. And they were gone.

Alive but wounded, Caroline stood next to the Originals. Amid the wreckage of war. All that remained were broken hearts, unshaken courage, and an ominous warning scrawled in dried blood at Caroline's feet:

_YOU WILL PAY FOR_ THIS.

* * *

**Friday, St. Matthews' Catholic Church:**

Caroline wasn't going to let Kol die. And she sure as hell wasn't going to let Bonnie, a magically-possessed-Kai-and-Freya-puppet, do the killing. It wasn't him they wanted anyway—it was her, the human eclipse.

But try explaining that rationally to an offended Bennett witch currently keen on torturing her offender. Kol levitated in the air above the balcony, weak, immobile, and flayed like a scarecrow, as Bonnie punished him with spell after violent spell. Each shriek from his lips made the girl laugh that much harder, relishing in his agony.

No, Caroline realized, there was only one solution to this problem—and it wasn't words. And so, flashing behind her friend, Caroline did the one thing certain to recapture Bonnie's attention: she bit her. Hard.

Her fangs punctured the witch's neck with surprising force, knocking Bonnie off-balance and breaking the spell that assaulted Kol's body—magic and soul—apart. The Original plummeted down to the balcony floor out-of-view with a decided _clunk. _If unconscious, he was currently safe from further attack. If conscious, he could restore his strength and enlist the help of reinforcements they should've had in the first place.

"You bitch!" Bonnie screamed.

Caroline slurped and sucked her friend's blood in a controlled, premeditated frenzy. The aim was not to kill, but to weaken. Only a few more seconds and…Bonnie's heartbeat slowed to a dull _thump, thump_; her breaths weakened and wheezed with exertion; her head lulled, rolling with heaviness until her chin rested against her chest.

Retracting her fangs, Caroline wiped a hand across her mouth. It all had gone according to—

Spinning pews. Too much air. Cold marble. Caroline found herself pinned to the communion altar like a sacrificial lamb, straddled across the hips by a not-so-blood-depleted Bonnie. Looking up, appalled, she thrashed to free her wrists from the girl's tight grip and to move.

"You faker!" she exclaimed. Caroline still couldn't escape. "You totally faked me out!"

Bonnie beamed down at her, brown eyes radiating with triumphant malice. Raising her right hand over her head, she twiddled her wooden stake between her fingertips.

"I'm sorry," she taunted, prolonging the inevitable. "But I'm afraid we have to say goodbye now—" she bent into Caroline's face, her expression stern "—_forever _this time," she said.

Right at this moment, Caroline caught sight of a bracelet dangling low, loosely, from Bonnie's tiny wrist. Rubies and diamonds twinkled amid the muted church candlelight and danced along the tile floor in refracted rainbow colors. It eliminated her fear; she knew what had to be done.

After one, low sigh, she reached upwards. Her fingers climbed along the stake until they rested over top of Bonnie's hands. With a squeeze, she yanked them both down until they hovered a few inches above her chest—over her pounding heart.

"Go ahead," she smiled, "I dare you."

While Bonnie clutched tighter to the stake, her assassin's blade, Caroline held her breath. It was a good thing Klaus wasn't here to see this…

* * *

**ADDITIONAL NOTE: Whew! A long one, right? I didn't want to kill Marcel, I really didn't-*shuffles remorsefully*-but I found it useful in demonstrating how serious and desperate Kai and Freya are to get what they want. Structure-wise, I modeled this chapter similarly to #6, though without quite as many time jumps. I'm still a little iffy about its execution...but alas. Voila! **

**Sending a big THANK YOU to all of you for your continuing support and feedback. You rock! Thanks for reading! :)**

**P.S. Reviews are always wonderful.**

**xx Ashlee Bree xx**


	8. Losing His Religion

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello lovely readers! I know it's been appallingly long since I've updated, but suffice it to say that both original writing and this plot's complexity kept me busy and stumped for a bit. **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own any TVD/TO material.**

**P.S. In case any of you were wondering, there is no Hope/baby plot in this story. ****Happy reading! :)**

* * *

"_**You wanted to drown in a woman. Here's your chance. Drown in her blood."**_

—_the Darkest Night_, Gena Showalter

* * *

A stake-to-the-heart? _Seriously_? Was this some kind of bad joke, or what?

Talk about cliché! There wasn't ending in the universe more trivial for a vampire than having a stake plunged right through the heart, for crying out loud! Romantic fantasies aside, Caroline refused to live as a cliché—let alone die as one. Not that she had much choice in the matter as it turned out…

xxx

Call it a necessary act of desperation.

Caroline allowed—encouraged—_compelled_ Bonnie to stab her in the chest, positioning the stake over the _X_-marked place above her heart herself. She knew that staking a vampire was kind of like bobbing for apples—the desired prize hidden behind curtained flesh—and to accomplish her goal of freeing Bonnie from Kai and Freya's witchy mind control, Caroline needed her best friend to succeed on the first try.

Perhaps surrendering her heart, and the eternal life she loved, to a wooden blade seemed like a weighty sacrifice to make, but it wasn't one Caroline would regret in death. Not if it was for Bonnie. That mysterious golden-black light brewed inside of her like a sleeping dragon in nostril breaths, snoring and snarling for the dream of one day soon being unleashed. And although she didn't understand why she possessed it, or how to use it, Caroline laid back and listened to the potent strum of her instincts:

_Accept the blow, _it whispered, _accept the blow_.

And accept it she did.

xxx

Light as fierce and ferocious as hellfire erupted from Caroline's chest upon the moment of impact, the stake tearing through fabric, skin, and bone. It radiated the inside of the church in an eclipse-like brightness, tones of black and gold swirling, combusting together to form a colloid-star around their two bodies, incinerating the bracelet around her friend's wrist in seconds. Falling away, it crumbled to green, flaky ashes on the ground.

The chains of control had been damaged. The spell broken. Bonnie was now safe—free.

Freshly awoken, fully in command of her own mind, Bonnie fell back backwards off the altar. She blinked at her surroundings. Aghast. Horrified. Her eyes raked over the fractured destruction of the ancient church—at the bloodied sacrament cloths and ripped hymnals, at the clawed fingernail marks scraped into pews, at the unmoving hand poking between the balcony spokes, at the altar. At Caroline, her best friend...now nothing more than a sacrificial lamb adorned with a wooden blade stamped with DEATH—

—That was the moment the whip cracked against Bonnie's kneecaps sending her wobbling. Plummeting. Grasping at walls of oxygen, un-solid, that couldn't keep her on her feet. That was the moment her wails emanated from the rafters like a choir of choking angels. Ringing in dissonant notes of disbelief and fury.

The sound roared and roared in Caroline's ears as she drifted farther away. They echoed with pain she wouldn't soon forget. She'd always supposed that great power came with a price, but she found herself grateful for the opportunity to pay hers beautifully...with her whole heart. And because of that, despite the fact that light had extorted life from her and had gifted it to another, her eyes fluttered shut for the last time not with regret—but with triumph.

* * *

When Caroline died as a human, a past full of laughter, scraped elbows, familial and romantic love, and broken promises drenched her in dust. It buried her in the dirt of a well-lived life, rocking her into quiet acceptance of _goodbye_. But when Caroline died as a vampire, the untapped future rushed at her all volcano and avalanche, molding her into the enduring sunshine of possibility. It shined on all the tomorrows with un-paralled dazzle, infusing her with the thirst to _stay_. And to stay forever.

Fruitless or not, Caroline's hope of another tomorrow wouldn't concede to the definitive end she met today, only a few moments ago. She wouldn't relinquish eternal life any more than it would relinquish her. Apparently, it took _time _for the soul to extricate itself from its immortal shell—you know, as if death didn't suck enough already. _Honestly_.

Although morbid curiosity had never been particularly high on Caroline's priority list—she was a happy person, thank you very much—to say that she'd never wondered about death before would've been a lie. A big one. To be frank, though, she wasn't afraid of it. And why should she be?

Thanks to Katherine and a suffocating pillow to the face—total _bitch _move, by the way—she'd already died once. The Grim Reaper had already swooped down in his invisible, not to mention creepy, billowing cape and collected her…more or less. (Granted, he'd only made off with her humanness, all those shallow, ordinary parts of herself that she didn't particularly miss, but it still counted. It still counted because she remembered.) Caroline remembered how death felt, at least how it felt as a dying human:

—_Blackness. It cradled her like a sleeping child, wrapping her in the sturdy, shushing arms of quiet, and rocked her life's memories through her mind as softly and as tenderly as a tire swing swaying in the spring breeze in her backyard. Freshness tickled her lungs and popped across her tongue in melodic hums. Loveliness spiraled through her, around her, and within her in a succession of endless tattoos that painted contentment with every single color of the mist._

_—Steadiness. It rooted her atomized soul into unforced stillness like a tack, but with room enough to nourish her limbs with comfort. And peace. No questions were left unanswered; no answers were left unquestioned. A dark paradise warm with sightlessness breathed the death of life into organs that recalled everything. There were no forgotten flickers or dropped morsels to lament, because the darkness swaddled with security, with certainty. For once. For now._

_—The darkness never once felt accosting; it felt alluring. It welcomed new lives, now old lives, with its arms wide open in starkness. There was no need for pretense or pain in this place of plainness. Only presence._

_—Present was all Caroline needed to be in this place. It was all she _could_ be._

Caroline had never imagined that a supernatural demise would mimic a human one, per se. But with the disintegration of the Other Side, which was no longer a viable place of waiting purgatory, she had believed it would be similar: Shadowed. Still. Silent. Or perhaps her optimism had merely tricked her into hoping that it would be?

Let's be real—under no circumstances had Caroline anticipated dying for a second time. Once was plenty! That being said, with ongoing supernatural wars and forever-increasing pressures, death always remained a possibility—but _never_ one that she'd accepted as unavoidable. Or likely for that matter.

As Klaus had once reminded her himself, she was strong, resourceful, and resilient; Caroline was a well-equipped warrior primed to fight. And this warrior had plans, okay? She had things she wanted: college degrees, happy memories with friends, foot-popping kisses, love, and a long, interminable future to explore the world…and herself. So if vampire death had decided to rearrange her schedule so cruelly without her permission—which is just damn well _rude_, she should add—was it wrong that she'd wished for second-death harmony? Tranquility?

Perhaps not. Hope and faith were never wasteful commodities, after all, were they? No, they were _beautiful_.

Unfortunately, the problem with placing wishes in counted stars wasn't in sending them, but in receiving them in concrete terms. Stars didn't grant wishes, they didn't fix broken promises, they didn't construct stairwells that led to unfulfilled dreams. Stars didn't do anything. Except _burn_.

And Caroline didn't realize until she died for the second time that the only gift fire left behind...was ashes.

* * *

The _where_ and _when_ of Caroline's existence didn't matter right now, it was the freaking _why_. _Why_ did this oppressive whiteness sting her eyes and assault her senses? _Why_ did cymbals crash and clatter and clack in her head while turbulence hurricaned through her cells, shredding her nerves into singed sparks? _Why_ did heat melt her flesh like thawing ice cream? _Why_ did she feel as if she'd traded bodies with one of Khaleesi's dragons? _Why_ was this happening to her? _Why_? Why, why, _why_?

xxx

Clanging commotion.

That was the best way to describe the absolute chaos igniting around and within Caroline right now. A vampire needed to die in order to experience overstimulation, apparently, which was probably a good thing because it caused such a massive, dizzying headache that she wanted to barf up the B+ blood she drank for dessert before sneaking out to save Bonnie.

The words, the faces, the people—they wouldn't stop flashing before her eyes. Flash, flash, flash. Talk, talk, talk. Scream, scream, scream. They wouldn't shut up, they wouldn't _stop_! And neither would the whirly, twirling, the veins-chafing-like-sandpaper, or the total-body-blazing.

At first, Caroline couldn't make sense of anything except the white. White noise. White sky. White perfume. White flowers and poisons. White liquor, white coffee, white chocolate. White hugs. White crawling beneath pores and clamoring to form puffy clouds. White here, white there. White colors and white invisible. White, white, white.

After an indeterminate amount of time, however, the white relented to Caroline's intense concentration…but not enough to lift the haze entirely. White still scalded her sharp senses, fraying them into disconnected puzzles of information that flashed through her brain in random movie-like sequences. They became indistinct images clumped together amid giant white blocks of nothingness:

_—Bonnie, awestruck, her hands trembling, hot tears dripping from her chin, collapsed on her knees wailing, "_What have I done, what have I done?"_ at the crumbling statue of the Virgin Mary. The statue's eyes crying blood and smelling of lavender._

_—Slurred spells, Kai and Freya raging, "_Snuff out the light, witch, snuff out the light!"_ Prayer hymnals raining from the twinkling church sky, blood magic tethering two souls like rope, and heat. Heat so profound it smothered lungs in smoke and power that tastes of sunbeams and moonlight. Lots and lots of power._

_—Kol and Bonnie stumbling from the church pew wreckage while conducting an orchestra of hell. Magic pouring from their fingertips in ribbons of ultraviolet nightmares, double-knotting tongues around necks and fastening bound feet to rickety doorknobs, fury blasting typhoon thunder into the air. Drowning the sky in a storm of retribution and carving a cloudless path for escape. Hand-in-hand, they bowed into the New Orleans night and disappeared._

_—Caroline's soul lifted. Floating high, high, high! Invisible wings carrying_—_carrying her away…_

The moment the sun-and-moon pendant, which glowed with warmth , began to vibrate against her collar bone, the whiteness receded. Parting like a yanked-open curtain to reveal clarity in this sizzling, blank for the first time.

"Caroline." Sharp and near, Klaus' voice rang through the air. "Caroline, come to me," he demanded.

His voice compelled her to him by name, by spirit—just like it had at Rousseau's, though she hadn't recognized it then—and she could feel herself reeling closer and closer each time he spoke. Her fingers itched to touch his one last time, to find support in the strong, black bones she never realized she needed.

Caroline reached out, but she caught empty air. She couldn't touch him. No—the whiteness had fish-hooked her like bait, and these were her last breaths of air.

"She's fading."

Davina's face came into view. Her forehead drenched in perspiration, her fingers dribbled liquid over a gold saucer and addressed Klaus, "Her necklace allows for you to project—connect—in spirit," she said, "but once the remaining light expires—" Davina paused "—you don't have much time, Klaus."

With that, the witch dissolved into the air as quickly as she appeared.

xxx

A flash of black, a shooting snap like a rubber band, and Caroline suddenly found herself in the middle of a grand ballroom adorned in an elegant blue silk gown. Alone. It wasn't a place she'd been to before, but the champagne fountains, soft, romantic music, and garden-picked white daisies gave the space a comforting small town, big city sensibility. It bridged Mystic Falls and New Orleans in a perfect, seamless way.

As she tossed her head back and twirled amid the loveliness, a hand caught her tenderly around the waist.

"Dance with me, love," Klaus whispered softly.

Okay…so not quite as alone as she'd thought. Smiling, Caroline threw her hands around his neck and tilted her head, lifting her eyelashes to his serious face.

"This isn't a dream, is it?" Caroline asked.

His fingers drew infinity circles on the small of her back, "No."

"Too bad," she sighed, "because this is lovely." Resting her head on his shoulder, she added with a laugh, "Though, I will admit, I had fun chewing your ass out at the Mikaelson Ball a few years ago."

"I deserved it, if I recall correctly," Klaus replied.

"Boy, did you ever."

Minimizing the space between their bodies, he drew her closer against his chest and tucked his chin against her forehead, his blond stubble prickling her exposed skin. He hummed against her hair. A solemn smile crept across his lips as they swayed.

Caroline could hear the rhythmic _tha-thump, tha-thump_ of blood pumping through his veins and marveled at how a heart—a thousand years dead—still managed to sound, and to feel, so human. Perhaps magic, no matter how dark or toxic, couldn't force a heart to beat in a new way? Perhaps a heart was the one thing that couldn't be tainted? Perhaps a heart was the only thing in this universe that truly survived?

"I'm dying," she said suddenly, looking up.

"Don't," Klaus warned. His eyes brooded with restrained emotion and his tone trembled on the edge of a violent dam about to burst. "Just tell me why."

Caroline's not sure what it was—perhaps it was the unavoidable death, the strange farewell circumstances, the wild look in his eyes, or the solitary waltz to a band that wasn't actually there—but she felt broken, truly broken, for the first time in her life.

"Does it matter?" she asked.

"Yes."

Klaus choked out this single syllable, looking vulnerable. Miserable. Terrified.

Call it a cruel parting gift, but Caroline endeavored to crack open that beastly heart of his as much as she could before she left. She'd push that baby open wide. She wasn't sure why, but she wanted to see inside. Or maybe _needed_ was the proper word.

"Why?" she blinked. "It doesn't change anything. I'm still going to—"

"—Because!"

"Because, _why_?"

Caroline halted their slow dance by throwing her hands on her hips and staring him down.

"My saving Bonnie _helps_ you, Klaus! Because of me, you now have one more witch on your side, one more person to help you locate Elijah and guard the ascendant, one more ally to help you defeat Kai and Freya. You have your siblings and the support of all the factions," she said. "You literally have _everything _you need to protect New Orleans. Why does it freaking matter how I achieved it?"

Klaus paced back and forth during the entirety of Caroline's speech, his hands tearing through his blond waves, his nostrils flaring, his jaw clenched into a snarl. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, all white-knuckled and stiff.

"You don't understand!" he growled.

"What don't I understand?" she countered. "You're being crazy!"

Klaus groaned at this, rubbing at his eyes with the palm of his hands.

"You have everything—" Caroline continued.

"—No!" Klaus interrupted, flashing at her all hybrid eyes and teeth. He gripped her hard by the shoulders, shaking her, his mouth contorted with pain, and said, "I don't have everything, don't you understand? I don't have everything…because I won't have _you_!"

He dropped his hands from her arms and bowed his head, defeated.

"The power—the legacy—my New Orleans kingdom—none of it means anything without you, Caroline." His voice came out low and rough, trembling with weakness he could no longer repress.. "Nothing."

"For a thousand years, I wanted nothing more than to rule the world as king with my hybrid fist—I was Klaus Mikaelson: Invincible and alone, always and forever—and I was okay with that," he explained, "I'd accepted it." Pushing hair from her face, he lifted her chin with his finger and forced her to look him in the eyes. "But it wasn't—"

He paused for a moment, taking a sharp intake of breath. Caroline could tell that whatever he wished to convey wasn't easy for him to say.

"—it wasn't until I met you that I realized I wanted more, that I believed I could _deserve _more one day. And that was because of you, Caroline. _You _gave me that hope."

Caroline's bottom lip trembled as she listened, her eyes plastered to his face.

"Don't you see?" he continued, licking his lips and looking away. "I'd always hoped that one day I'd show you the world that I created in great part _for_ you...and that, maybe, someday—" he hesitated, his lips struggling to form the words he so desperately wanted to relate "—you'd bestow me with the love I want and crave, but don't just now deserve from you."

"Is that—" Caroline stammered "—is that what you meant by _however long it takes_?"

Klaus pressed his lips together and nodded

"You're the one sunray in the infinite night sky that's been my existence, Caroline," His voice cracked as he traced her profile with his index finger. "You're the only true hope I've ever had."

"And soon you'll be gone," he despaired, "and all I'll have is blackness."

Caroline curled his hands in her own and squeezed. "You'll be fine," she said, her eyes full of tears. "I promise you'll be fine."

Klaus shook his head violently and tugged her into his shuddering arms. He ran his fingers through her hair, across her shoulders, around her waist, frantically trying to memorize the curves of her body. As the light from her pendant began to dim, he placed a gentle kiss against her forehead and allowed his lips to rest against her skin.

"I've ruined everything, love." He laughed, but it was devoid of humor and full of bitter irony. "I'm sorry—I'm so sorry."

Caroline raised her hand to his mouth and pressed her fingers against his lips in an effort to silence him.

"It's what I do," he shrugged, sighing derisively "I destroy. I destroy everything and everyone I touch. All the beauty in this world falls like slayed corpses at my feet, deadened by a sword I didn't realized I wielded."

"Stop," Caroline argued. "You do not destroy, you_ sabotage_." Cupping his face between her hands, she tilted his head and peered hard into his storming blue eyes, a small smile curving the corners of her lips. "Sabotage and destruction are not mutually exclusive, okay? They are _not_ the same thing, do you hear me?"

Klaus only grumbled.

"You may self-sabotage every good thing in your life, Klaus," she continued, "but you save others from doing the same, and there's redemption in that. There's redemption in _you_."

He attempted to pull away at this, but Caroline's grip hardened around his neck and she kept him firm. Steady. He needed to hear this. He needed to believe it…before it was too late.

"Do you hear me?"

Misery and conflict enveloped his features as he gaped back at her, desperately wanting to believe but, but—_but_.

That taunting _but_ still lingered between them and Caroline didn't know if she possessed enough time to squash it, not when whiteness began to push at her from the sides like a closing elevator door. She shoved the doors open with her warrior's will, refusing to leave him—not like this. Just—more time. She needed more time. Please—just a few—minutes—more.

"You saved me from the darkest hour of my life," she said, emotion slurring her words, "you saved me when no one else could. When my mom died—"

Klaus made a move to interrupt, but Caroline stopped him by encircling their fingers and pressing them against his chest, over his heart.

"—you gave me back my strength," she breathed. "You reminded me not to let one moment of darkness obliterate all the light." She smiled through tears and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand, "And now I'm reminding you."

"Don't leave me," he pleaded in a frantic whisper, drawing her against him, "please, _please_ don't leave me."

Tears ravaged his throat in a sob. His heart cracked and crackled against her chest, and she swore she felt a wrench dissect it open, shattering it like window glass. Irreparable pieces discarded everywhere, bleeding him harsh and dry on the ground before her feet.

"I—I can't let you go—" he stammered "—that word, that blasted, filthy word! I can't say it! I can't, Caroline, I can't—I'll never be able to say goodbye to you. Please, please don't make me say it."

God, why was this so difficult? Caroline cared about him—this invulnerable Original bowed and half-bawling in her arms—but she wasn't in love with him. Not quite, not now. And yet—and yet—no man had ever regarded her as the one sunray in his black sky before; she'd never been the One; she'd never been precious to anyone besides her mother. Somehow, his words sent black-and-golden sunlight vibrating into the depths of her soul and she couldn't find the solidarity to let go of him or his beautiful hopes for their future together. No, she didn't _want_ to let go.

Caroline didn't want to leave—she couldn't say goodbye either.

"Then let's not," she said. "We won't speak it."

She clung to Klaus' neck with her fists buried around his tie as the scalding whiteness threatened to suck her away again into some unknown oblivion. Far, far away from him.

"Caroline, _please_," he cried, clinging harder.

Desperate for contact, for the feeling of his strong, hybrid arms around her one last time, she pulled him close and smashed her lips against his mouth. Lips conquered lips and tongues assaulted tongues. Noses brushed noses, fingers encircled fingers, and eternal soul ignited eternal soul. Their kiss expressed all of the desperation, longing, and sorrow that their words couldn't articulate. Not here, not now. There wasn't enough time—and there never would be.

"_CAROLINE_!" Klaus cried again.

Death had finally come to collect: in its flowing cape of white. As the light of her necklace pendant flickered from dim to off, she felt herself slipping, floating away back to heat and turbulence. Back to chaos and commotion. But before the whiteness swallowed her whole, shutting out life, shutting out Klaus, her voice cut through the air one final time:

"I promise I'll wave _hello_ from the other side," she said. "To you—to the one heart that understood mine."

Klaus collapsed to his knees as she faded away, rabid and antsy, his hand swiping through the empty air. Reaching out—forever reaching out for a hope now stolen away. Extinguished.

_Poof_.

It was no longer there. It was gone. And so was Caroline.

* * *

**_2 months later_:**

66 days + 40 bottles of bourbon + 3 deaths—1 metaphorical, 2 literal— + 1 stewing supernatural war = one totally dreary, disgruntled Original Hybrid.

To hell with responsibilities and crisis! To hell with kidnapped brothers, dead protégés, and chocolate croissants! To hell with fastidious kingdoms! Klaus' life became all about drowning. In blood…in debauchery…in despair.

_Cheers_ to losing his religion. Choke on that eternal screw-you, motherfuckers. Choke on that.

* * *

_**Before you came,**__**  
**__**things were as they should be:**__**  
**__**the sky was the dead-end of sight,**__**  
**__**the road was just a road, wine merely wine.**_

_**Now everything is like my heart,**__**  
**__**a color at the edge of blood:**__**  
**__**the grey of your absence, the color of poison, of thorns,**__**  
**__**the gold when we meet, the season ablaze,**__**  
**__**the yellow of autumn, the red of flowers, of flames,**__**  
**__**and the black when you cover the earth**__**  
**__**with the coal of dead fires.**_

_**And the sky, the road, the glass of wine?**__**  
**__**The sky is a shirt wet with tears,**__**  
**__**the road a vein about to break,**__**  
**__**and the glass of wine a mirror in which**__**  
**__**the sky, the road, the world keep changing.**_

_**Don't leave now that you're here—**__**  
**__**Stay. So the world may become like itself again:**__**  
**__**so the sky may be the sky,**__**  
**__**the road a road,**__**  
**__**and the glass of wine not a mirror, just a glass of wine.**_

—Faiz Ahmad Faiz, _100 Poems by Faiz Ahmad Faiz: 1911-1984_

* * *

**ADDITIONAL**** NOTE: Don't hate me? _*hides in corner*_ If you found this chapter to be heartbreaking, then I accomplished my task. Just know 2 things: 1) I cried while writing some of the passages. 2) If you think you know what's going to happen next, you probably don't.**

**As always, thank you all so much for your continuing interest and support. Leave a review and let me know what you think. ;)**

**xx Ashlee Bree**


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